REALITY FLUX: ARMORED CORE AND BOLO
By
Gregory P. Wong
Part Two: Honor of the Regiment
Keira Sanchez was waiting to wake up from this dream.
A ninety-meter, 28,000-ton, sentient tank that had traveled across time, space, and universes to Earth? She didn't want to believe it.
Then again, she hadn't wanted to believe that the Bolo had just stomped six Ravens into the dirt, but it was true.
What was even more frightening was how Bethany—in their universe, the humans gave names to giant tanks?—calmly told them that it would have ended faster than 32.12 seconds had the Bolo opted to go for hard-kills and used its main weapons. Sure, the IDs of the Ravens who had been shot up showed that none of them was rated higher than Class B—save Asmodeus, who was a mid-tier A—but even B-class Ravens were very skilled.
The machine had been pretty tight-lipped about the nature of the weapons, but she was sure that bad things would happen if it ever got around to using them. At least the Bolo had told her—quite adamantly, too, that it had no desire to harm other humans. Hell, it even acknowledged her as a superior officer, though it probably wouldn't take any real orders from her.
"Major, I have a query," the Bolo said in that eerily human voice."
"Yes?"
"Are there any underground installations within the area? I have detected seismic activity congruous with the opening of subterranean blast doors."
"Where?"
Signatures are centered in a position 147.12 kilometers from our current location. Odd. Please hold."
What was the Bolo doing now?
"Bethany, what are you...?"
"I am hacking into the surveillance satellites above me and using them to scan the area. Strange."
Hacking...? "What is it?" she asked.
"According to the scans, six 50-meter surface doors have opened. I am detecting numerous high-energy signatures."
Oh... oh God. Please don't let it be...
"Bethany, pipe the feed to me, please."
"Affirmative."
The raw data appeared on her viewscreen. There were... a lot of signatures, but at least a fifth of them stood out from the rest. She compared those signatures to those known to UN database, and the signatures matched... matched... Oh Lord in Heaven.
"Pulverizers," she whispered.
Major Sanchez identifies several of the energy signatures as "Pulverizers", "Nineball-Betas", and "Juggernaut-type Muscle Tracers". The other signatures are not able to be classified conclusively, but Major Sanchez is confident that the vast majority of this new force is simply Muscle Tracers.
The satellites I have commandeered as decent, but they are not precise enough to give me an accurate count or formation configuration. I can estimate, given that Muscle Tracers are smaller than Armored Cores, that the new, unidentified force is over two thousand strong. From the capabilities that Major Sanchez has mentioned, things might prove difficult. Yet, I am a Bolo of the Line, and I can only do my duty.
"Major," I say, "I will proceed to the north and meet the new signatures two hundred kilometers out from you. I will attempt communications, and if intentions prove to be hostile, I will alert you."
"Bolo... Bethany, there's over two-thousand of them! If they do prove hostile—and I feel in my gut that they are—will you be able to disengage?"
I run a brief scenario. "I believe so, Major. I request, however, that your battalion take on a support role in the event of hostilities."
"Roger that."
Major Sanchez begins to snap orders to her soldiers—she is a very good leader—and the battalion responds smoothly. There is a most definite difference between them and the Ravens, even though both use the same type of fighting machine.
I power down my battlescreens and main weapons, and shunt the energy to my internal contra-gravity generators. I lift two meters off the ground.
In this mode I am utterly naked and nearly weaponless, but my speed is triple what I can normally achieve in road-sprint mode.
I pick up a smattering of chatter as I engage the propulsion fields.
"Is that tank fisking floating?"
"It's so fast!"
"How'd it do—"
But then I ignore the chatter and focus on the numerous energy signatures in front of me. The closer I get, the more precise my readings get.
I count 2,529 different energy signatures, plus-or-minus 0.019 percent.
So... The tank was really going to try something, eh?
"Okay, people," Keira said into the battalion channel. "I'm hoping for the best, preparing for the worst.
"Grand Hammer, get into optimum firing distances of your indirect weapons. Be ready to answer calls for fire.
"Animus, Monolith, Helios: forward positions, one-point-five kilometer spacing. Screen the artillery and support as necessary. Helios, take the air when you have clear skies.
"Phantom, get a good lookout spot and have that rifle ready to support the forward positions.
Red Flash, probe the advance units and try to find exploitable openings or flanking approaches.
"Scorpion and I will serve as reaction forces. Scorpion, be ready to provide close-in support for the assault teams."
Great. Now, hopefully, all this stuff would be unnecessary. The Bolo would do what it had to do, and she and her troops wouldn't have to fire any shots. She would worry about the five Ravens later. If there was a later.
"Arm weapons," she whispered.
I power down my contra-grav generators and settle down to the caked mud. I immediately redirect power back to my shields and main batteries.
The distance between the leading edges of these new units and Major Sanchez's forces is only 135.78 kilometers. I am one hundred kilometers closer, however, and I transmit at several different frequencies to what I presume to be the leader of the army, a blood red, floating Nineball-Beta. There are many other Nineball-Betas, but this one is leading the other units by a good six hundred meters.
"This is Unit 7195-BTN, requesting contact.
There is a pause of only 0.002 seconds before something answers me. Astounding. I had not detected biological traces in the vicinity of the army, so I assumed they were machine-controlled. As it turns out, the units are directed by artificial intelligences that run at sub-second speeds. They are, I suspect, inferior to my own nanosecond reflexes. But they are still faster than a human.
"This is Human Organism-Destroyer Intelligence Network, HODIN. Identify yourself. Our records do not contain information on you." a monotonous, strangely belligerent electronic "voice" replies.
I am wary of giving too much information, including as to how I believe I ended up in this world. In truth, I am under no obligation to answer any of this AI's questions.
"You have appeared with a machine army numbering approximately 2,529 units, and you are on a vector that will take you to a cluster of human colonies if you do no alter course. You are the one who should be providing identification, not I," I challenge.
"Humans have been detected," HODIN drones. "Nearest human settlement is 504.67 kilometers to the south. IBIS Directive 84.3 dictates that I reach the human settlements."
"What is your prime directive?" I inquire.
"I was created to exterminate the human plague that has been wracking this planet."
"Major, an AI controls the army. It designates itself 'HODIN.'"
Keira frowned. An AI? How long had it been down there?
"Bethany, do you—"
"Major, HODIN is hostile. I repeat: HODIN is hostile."
"Bethany! Fall back!"
"Negative," the Bolo said.
And then she saw a blinding flash from somewhere to the north.
"I cannot allow the extermination of humans," I say.
"What you desire has no bearing on the Directive," HODIN retorts. "Simply move aside."
"I could no more neglect my duties than I could kill humans myself," I reply.
"You do not have to partake in the fulfillment of Directive 84.3. Simply stand aside, and you will be left alone."
"I will not."
"Move aside or be terminated."
"I will not."
"So be it."
Even before HODIN had gotten around to threatening me, I had already advised Major Sanchez to the situation. The conversation between me and this strange AI has only gone on for 0.005 seconds, and by 0.00025 seconds, I was already preparing.
I detect an energy surge in the lead Nineball-Beta.
I noticed it in time, however, and I am already bringing my weapon systems to full readiness. Without the need to withhold main battery fire, I lock my forward 200cm Hellbore on the enemy mechanoid's center-of-mass.
A bare 0.003 seconds after that, I feel the brush of enemy targeting arrays. I slap the touch away with ECM, and fire my forward main Hellbore.
In the breech of my weapon, a steel-jacketed needle of cryohydrogen is accelerated to relativistic velocities by powerful electromagnets. The acceleration is sufficient to induce nuclear fusion in the hydrogen atoms. The electromagnets in the barrel of my gun herd the plasma along the bore, while several 1-gigawatt targeting lasers fire, tunneling a temporary vacuum in the air, which prevents plasma bloom.
The bolt of a star's heart, with the energy equivalent of a five-megaton nuclear explosive, leaves the two-meter-wide muzzle of my forward main Hellbore at nearly eighty-percent lightspeed.
The Hellbore blast hammers into the Nineball-Beta and rips it to glowing, white-hot shreds. My rear Hellbore locks on to a humanoid Pulverizer and blows it to atoms with another burst of hellfire.
I am granted three seconds to plot new targeting solutions as my main Hellbores cycle.
As the enemy mechanoid vaporizes, I snap open my forty VLS missile silos and fire heavy volleys of dual-purpose improved conventional munitions (DPICM) missiles towards the enemy army.
My 40cm BL mortars also thunder, raining down high explosive shells down on the advancing machine army. Though the projectiles have almost no guidance—they are dumb iron bombs—I can tailor the binary propellant inserted into each tube prior to firing, allowing me to attain a 1.25-meter targeting radius, even if I were moving at full speed.
I add the power of my 20cm infinite repeaters—which are thermonuclear-plasma Hellbores, just like my main guns—to the swath of destruction I am cutting into the HODIN front ranks.
But even as the missiles and mortars prepare to descend form their apogees, I fire my main Hellbores again, incinerating a heavy, four-legged Muscle Tracer and a quad-legged Pulverizer. My missile and mortar volleys impact, and I stiffen the barrage with the roar of my infinite repeaters.
However, I again must wait three seconds for my main guns to be made ready.
Three seconds is an eternity to a Bolo.
Keira was very, very happy that the Bolo-tank was on their side. Because if it hadn't, all her troops would have died in under ten seconds.
Those two utterly ridiculously powerful main energy cannons were firing much too fast, each bolt of white fire obliterating an enemy unit.
No matter what the unit was. She'd never heard of anything that could kill a Pulverizers or Nineball-Betas that quickly, save nuclear explosives.
That was a very scary thought.
She linked to the Bolo. "Bethany? Is there any way you could pipe intelligence to us? We're moving into support positions, but we're doing it blind."
"Affirmative, Major. I will launch five Battlefield Intelligence and Surveillance Transmissions missiles, which should provide sufficient targeting, tactical, and geographic data. Firing now."
She boosted her optical sensors to the max. Ah, there they were. Off in the distance five missiles, trailing exhaust, clawed their way upwards, exploding high up in the sky. The surveillance missiles. If the Bolos support abilities were as advanced as its fighting ones, these things would make the Spyeye drones look like... spyglasses.
"Major, I am patching in feed... now," she heard Bethany say.
And suddenly, she didn't need radar anymore. Those drones the Bolo had spread across the sky were ten times better! Not only was there positional data, but visual, infrared, electromagnetic, you name it!
But... the data that the Bolo was routing to her... oh, God.
The swarm was too big, too dense, for even that Bolo to take on successfully. She was stupefied by how efficiently and quickly the Bolo dispatched units as powerful as Juggernaut MTs and Pulverizers, but she cold see that it was taking hits, too.
Bad hits.
And as fast as the tank was, and as far reaching as it weapons were, they couldn't contain everything. MTs, the smaller and nimbler ones, were slipping past while the heavier Pulverizers, Juggernauts, and Nineball-Betas engaged the Bolo.
Well...
"Grand Hammer, fire mission," she whispered.
"Standing by," she heard Lieutenant Nathan Wilkes say.
"Units detected, radial six-zero. Indirect fire, observed."
"Roger," the Mobile Fire Support specialist grunted.
And then, from behind, she heard a deafening explosion. A dark object arced overheard as Grand Hammer fired a single round from its 127cm grenade cannon.
A few seconds later, a patch of dusty earth exploded.
"Call it in," she heard Wilkes say.
"Correct for eighty meters north," Lieutenant Joanna Nikambuto stated.
"Affirmative, eight-zero meters." This from Wade Gurney.
Okay. That meant the shell had fallen a little short of the middle of the oncoming machine army. "Grand Hammer, advance seven hundred-fifty meters" she ordered. "Begin rolling barrage, all weapons hot. Fire for effect."
"Roger, firing for effect confirmed," replied Wilkes.
And suddenly the air filed with metal as Grand Hammer let loose with cannon, howitzer, and missiles.
"Assault elements, begin advance, five hundred meters. No booster. Fire as you bear.
"Scorpion, begin secondary barrage with VLS missile packs.
"Phantom, observe and engage targets of opportunity.
"Red Flash, slew east and find viable locations for enfilading fire."
There was a chorus of affirmatives.
Here they went...
A part of my mind notes the fire support I am receiving, even as the vast majority of my consciousness deals with evading fire, shooting down incoming missiles, and firing my titanic array of weaponry.
Most of the incoming indirect fire I backtrack to Armored Core Grand Hammer, the tank-treaded unit. It is keeping up sustained, massive volleys from its 127cm cannon and VLS missile system, strengthening the barrage with rounds from a 425mm howitzer and auxiliary missiles. Though its missiles volume is much lighter than my own, Grand Hammer's howitzer and grenade cannons are a heavier bore than my banks of 40cm mortars. Unit Scorpion adds its own might as high explosive missiles snarl into the oncoming tide of robots.
Phantom, the sniper, is firing RASFAT shells from over twenty kilometers away, and each shell drives a self-forging jet of intense flame into the machines' interior, roasting their circuits and inner works. I am impressed with the accuracy of Lieutenant Tobakimi, with each of his shots scoring a hard kill on an enemy unit.
The fast response unit, the hovering Armored Core Red Flash, is speeding off into the east. As it does so, it launches volleys of missiles at HODIN's forces. While the missiles are smaller and the volleys lighter, Red Flash is forcing the enemy to split his attention.
The other units, MonolithAnimus, and Helios, with Nike in a close-support configuration, probe northward with their targeting radar. While woefully short compared to my own locks, the Armored Cores sport a 76.14 range advantage over the Muscle Tracers of HODIN. The targeting systems of the Nineball-Betas, Juggernaut MTs, and Pulverizers are nearly equal, though.
The analysis has taken me a bare 0.00039 seconds.
I am an island as I draw the enemy's weapons upon myself. My battlescreens are holding, but just barely at 23.409. Luckily, the dual-ply nature of my shields ensures that kinetic energy weapons, like the autocannons and heavy cannons, are much less effective than energy-based weapons. There are still enough projectile weapons to alarm me, though.
My after turret slews right and smites down a Nineball-Beta, while my forward Hellbore eliminates a trio of laser- and missile-armed Muscle Tracers with digitigrade legs. My secondary batteries also open up, and the twelve lesser Hellbores reduce swarms of MTs to glowing shards.
My siege weaponry has not been silent, and 40cm mortars and missiles engage, raining down death-laden metal around the heads of the enemy. DPICM munitions detonate with the familiar crackcrackcrack of bomblets, while my airburst mortar rounds explode above the enemy, shredding them with razor-tipped shrapnel. I mix in fuel-air explosives with the barrage, and enemy robots are scorched by intense flame or ripped apart by near-nuclear shockwaves.
So thick is the crush of mechanicals that even my 50mm gauss guns, point-defense lasers, and 155mm railguns are active. Though my tertiary and anti-personnel batteries are weak by the standards of my Hellbores, they are quite effective in a world of this technology base. Even as I think of this, my gauss guns devour a mob of miniscule, floating, energy-armed Muscle Tracers.
Even my twenty-eight thousand bulk is a lethal weapon as eight sets of five-meter wide, five-meter high treads smash aside and grind slow-moving opponents to wreckage.
But this exchange is far from one-sided.
The weapons that these machines field against me are mediocre, at best, and completely ineffective at worst. The problem is that there are hundreds of them.
One of the Nineball-Betas deploys its heavy particle cannon from its chest. I swivel my Number One and Two infinite repeaters to sight it, and the HODIN unit and I open fire within 0.00045 seconds of each other. The bolt of energized particles strikes me, taxing my battlescreens, even as twin spears of hellfire vaporize the Nineball-Beta.
A massive volley of missiles races towards me, and I repurpose my gauss guns and 25-megawatt lasers to point-defense. My guns kill half of the missiles, while my ECM and evasion patterns cause misses among half of the remainders.
Which means no less than 83 missiles survive to batter themselves against my body.
They are low-yield conventional warheads, but they serve to further degrade my energy screens. Shields are barely holding at 11.79. Even as I carve a massive swath through the enemy army—I have 717 confirmed hard-kills in the first ten minutes—I calculate that with the enemy will overwhelm me with sheer weight of numbers. Within those five minutes, my battlescreens have been breeched three times, and portions of my armor have melted or boiled away.
I detect energy buildup to the right.
I will not be able to dodge in time.
"Contact! Engaging!" Keira heard Gurney snarl into the communications net.
There was a shower of pink arrows on the radar display as the symbol for AC Helios engaged missile packs, sending a dozen homing missiles at the AI-controlled mechs. Through the BIST cloud Bethany had deployed, she watched two assault MTs stagger as the missiles struck home.
"Contact! Engaging!" Hanson and Nikambuto said simultaneously.
She watched more missiles leap away.
"Grand Hammer! Fire shift! Repurpose to radial one-oh-five!"
"Roger! Shifting fire to radial one-oh-five!" Wilkes called back.
Patches of baked mud—mixed rather nicely with the wrecked hulks of artillery-killed MTs—began to explode, and she watched Animus, with the reprieve granted by Grand Hammer, shift fire to take the enemies attacking Monolith in the flank. The 50mm high-velocity rifle chewed up MTs with armor-piercing rounds.
Monolith crouched behind its shield, raking the oncoming MTs—ugh, there were plenty of bazooka armed heavies mixed in with the rife-armed assault types—with machine gun bursts. If her XO had been true to form, the powerful 95mm machine gun had an alternating munitions cycle, meaning that the first two rounds were armor-piercing, the next two high explosive, and the fifth and six incendiaries, commonly called tracers. The aim of that—so Hanson had said—was to "poke holes in 'em, blow the holes open, and light 'em up."
It was something she hadn't heard of before, but it looked like it worked like a charm.
One of the heavy battle MTs slumped over as Monolith's machine gun ripped its torso to shreds, and an assault MT exploded spectacularly. Looked like the whole "light 'em on fire" deal had paid off. Looked good.
Well, looked good except for the fact that there were several dozen more.
Fisk.
Pain. A trio of heavy plasma bolts rip away the battlescreens on my starboard flank, and enemy weapons begin to strike naked metal. Endurachrome is an extremely hardy plating, but even it will begin to crumble given enough munitions.
There is a shift in movement, and enemy units along my right side cease their evasive maneuvers and come charging at me. I accelerate and wheel away, but I detect that HODIN's units are seeking to capitalize on the breech in my defenses. I will require another 12.23 seconds before my overloaded starboard battlescreens can be energized again. My infinite repeaters obliterate units rolling in on my flank, yet the crush of metal is slowing pushing closer.
A quintet of humanoid Pulverizers charge at me, their glowing, bladed arms waving malevolently, and I take them under fire with my forward primary Hellbore and starboard infinite repeaters. Even as I eliminate four of them, the last, shielded by its comrades and clouds of dust that have been kicked up, weaves through my point-defense fire and leaps onto my hull.
The Pulverizer begins to hack away at my infinite repeater turrets with its blades. I rapid analysis of the arms themselves reveal the blades to be made of some type of incredibly hard crystalline substance, monomolecular sharp, and energized with pulses of electrons. The technology required to make this would have to be advanced!
Even as I digest and file away this piece of data I train my gauss guns on the slashing mechanoid and open fire, hundreds of high explosive slugs ripping it to pieces.
However, it survived long enough to wreck my Number Eight infinite repeater, reducing my secondary battery effectiveness by 8.3 percent.
The Pulverizers and Nineball-Betas are extremely fast, and I have to exercise greater caution when they close in at such ranges. I had underestimated the effectiveness of those blades.
My starboard battlescreens engage again, and my energy sheath protects the metal of my body. My guns roar, and dozens more enemy robots are eliminated.
Yet, despite my best efforts, a significant number have leaked past me, and are moving to engage Major Sanchez.
"Scorpion," Keira said into the comm. "Move to reinforce Animus." Nikambuto had found herself a target-rich environment... meaning the lieutenant was close to getting surrounded.
"Roger, moving into support position," Garab said crisply. She watched the heavy quad barrel forward on howling thrusters as its integral arm-guns chattered. Even as its machine guns roared, Scorpion deployed Exceed Orbit auxiliary energy guns and its railgun mount.
The 106mm explosive penetrators ripped chunks out of the MT bodies, while the EOs spat coherent energy from their hovering positions. Every time Scorpion's railgun thundered, a magnetically accelerated spike of steel-sheathed depleted uranium ripped out at Mach 10, literally crushing anything hit by it... if it didn't simply blow through.
Well, Scorpion wasn't the "close-in support" unit for nothing.
"Scorpion, shift to take Helios' position; refuse the right flank. Gurney, get into the air. I'm moving to support Monolith."
A chorus of affirmatives.
"Monolith, deploy laser cannon. I'll cover you," she barked.
"Roger," replied Hanson.
She fed full power to her thrusters and moved into position in front of the heavy AC. Her targeting reticules snapped online.
Time to boogey.
Whereas Monolith was a heavy unit mounting an even heavier shield, her dear old Nike—named after the goddess of victory—was a medium, and closer to the lighter end of the spectrum at that. She had to rely on her speed and skills to avoid damage, since she couldn't soak up a fraction of what Monolith could take.
The trade off, though, was that in place of more armor plating, she packed some pretty heavy weaponry. She had a heavy laser rifle—technically, it was a lased ion-bolt rifle, but the catchier "laser rifle" name had stuck—missiles, a 75mm machine gun, and a light, 2.75-gigawatt plasma cannon. If she chose to ditch her machine gun, she could deploy her energy blade.
Plus she was a soldier, not a Raven, and she wouldn't be fighting these bastards alone.
For the most part, the mercenary Ravens could defeat a United Nations Mechanized Strike AC unit in single combat. For the most part. But if you took a group of UNMS Armored Cores and an equal number of Raven-piloted ones, it wouldn't be pretty for the Ravens. Not pretty, as in the Raven's would get their tails beat so fast it would flat out amaze them.
She targeted one of the bazooka-wielding heavy MTs and blasted a bolt of coherent blue energy at it. The laser-energized protons slashed deep into the MT's torso, and it collapsed, belching smoke. Left! Her machine gun raked a pair of assault MTs, and one of them crumpled, but its companion boosted towards her, its arm-mounted energy blade shimmering. Oh, goody, it wanted a blade fight. Either she dropped her machine gun or that MT would rip her a new one. There was no—
A light briefly winked on her comm board. Ah.
A pulse of energy from Monolith's Exceed Orbital cannons washed away the oncoming Muscle Tracer. Soldiers watched each other's backs.
She looked at the chronometer. Hmm, about four seconds had passed, which meant...
"Heads up," she heard Hanson growl into the comm. "The Big Stick's ready."
"Fire as you bear," she called.
"Roger."
And then she heard Monolith's 8-gigawatt laser roar, and the very atoms in the laser beam's path split into ions as the intense energy ripped them apart. The laser beam itself was invisible, and only during night or when there was a lot of particulate matter could the beam be "seen." On the other hand, the lightshow that occurred when the forcibly separated atomic particles reunited was rather spectacular.
The visual signs didn't matter, of course, as the laser beam slammed into a quartet of advancing heavies. The touch of the energy cannon literally transformed the lead MT into a bomb as the power blew it open and converted the shrapnel of its body into white-hot shrapnel. So powerful the energy was that some of the atmosphere around the target MT exploded in an expanding sphere of crackling, stripped electrons. The secondary effects of the laser cannon crumpled the three MTs to either side of the target.
Wasn't called the "Big Stick" for nothing.
"Take those positions and use the hulks for cover," she snapped into the comm. "Grand Hammer, plow the road. Helios, knock their heads."
Explosions marched along the line of rapidly advancing MTs as Grand Hammer splattered them with barrages of indirect fire. Fire rained down from the sky as the airborne Helios slashed into the MT army with rifle, energy pulses, and missiles.
She ignited her thrusters and moved forward, firing as she advanced.
This is difficult.
My battlescreens have collapsed again, and already the concentrated fire from a Nineball-Beta's arm cannons have boiled away a half-meter-deep crater in my flank armor. My Numbers One and Five infinite repeaters have also been disabled.
I have another 246 confirmed enemy kills, yet I am paying an unsatisfactory price for those. I would be most effective if I broke the engagement and took on HODIN's forces without them enveloping me, but I am the only thing preventing the robotic swarm from charging towards Major Sanchez, her command, and the cities to the south.
My sensors note that unit Phantom has moved in closer and is projecting fire deep into the swarm. Lieutenant Nobakimi is playing a dangerous game, as his unit is very lightly armored and badly equipped for a close engagement.
Yet I cannot deny the effectiveness of his fire. The RASFAT munitions continue to tear into enemy MTs that are engaging me, providing me with openings.
I lash out with my main guns, tearing a massive, airborne MT to burning wreckage. An alarming number of these floating fortresses have made their appearances, though I have had made short work of most of them. Perhaps...
I attempt a hack into one of the flying behemoths that is advancing on me, seeking me with cannon fire, energy blasts, and swarms of fast missiles. I enter, only to be beaten off by HODIN itself 0.0005 seconds later.
However, in that fraction of a fraction of a second, I was able to break into its maintenance records and steal some design schematics.
I see a weakness that I and my allies can capitalize on. I open a channel to Lieutenant Tobakimi.
"Lieutenant Tobakimi, this is Bethany."
"Yeah, I'm here," the Armored Core pilot transmits back to me.
"I have detected a weakness you can exploit in the massive, aerial MTs."
"What?"
I transmit a magnified view of the salient area. "The capacitor the MT uses to power its large energy cannon is located on an armored deck in the aft region of the unit. It is plated with two meters of titanium, as its power busses and cables lead directly to a secondary powerplant."
"Okay."
"If penetrating fire can disrupt the capacitor, overloaded busses will bleed back power into the fusion reactor, which will lead to a collapse of the magnetic bottle and cause catastrophic damage to the inner works of the Muscle Tracer."
"So my target is a circle five meters in diameter... on a flying MT that's shooting back at me and probably masses over a couple thousand tons?" I hear a coloring of disbelief in the lieutenant's voice.
"Yes. Also, you must hit the target at a thirty to forty-two degree angle in order to hit the capacitor."
There is silence for 5.91 seconds. "Ah, hell. Tough shot. Oh, well, it's a challenge. Stand by."
I blaze away at my foes for 4.91seconds before I detect Phantom open fire on the nearest flying MT. I note the plastic sabots dropping away, and ascertain that Lieutenant Nobakimi is using HIDSFSLRP rounds for maximum penetration.
Phantom fires another three slugs. I swing sensors to focus on the targeted aerial fortress. Nothing.
Wait.
My sensors detect that the massive MT has begun to lose power! 3.2 seconds later, there is a massive explosion that engulfs almost the last third of the enemy unit. Phantom had hit the capacitor optimally.
I am proud to serve with such skilled individuals.
Even as the wreckage plummets from the sky, I train my infinite repeaters on a group of four-legged, cannon-armed MTs that are attempting to get in close. Pulses of plasma fire vaporize them as my main Hellbores smite down a massive aerial Muscle Tracer that had been following the one Lieutenant Nobakimi had shot down.
The Lieutenant is continuing a sustained barrage with his sniper cannon, and smaller, birdlike MTs tumble from the sky.
Battlescreen breech.
Energy washes over naked metal, and I feel endurachrome plating boil away. I note an alarming, meter-deep hole in my frontal glacis plate... which is the heaviest armored area. My Number Twelve infinite repeater locks up; diagnostics discover that high heat has actually welded the turret to its rotating collar and cracked the barrel.
At the rate of damage I am taking, I will be rendered inoperable before I can eliminate even a large fraction of HODIN's forces.
I accelerate and swerve, attempting to throw off the aim of the enemy. I have some moderate success, but the volume is so heavy I can only shed a fraction of what is being thrown at me.
This is not good.
This wasn't good, not good at all.
"Plating down to thirty-percent on my forward region," Keira heard Garab shout. "And hull temperature is skyrocketing. I need to break contact."
"Fall back to a support position, Scorpion. Helios, fill in the gap!"
"Roger!"
She ducked behind a burned-out assault MT as high explosives gouged out holes in the dirt.
Dammit.
She activated her Overboost afterburner and burned to the right for a fraction of a second before she shut if off. The microboost threw off the MT's aim as bazooka and rifle fire tore at the air where she would have been. Her laser rifle thrummed, and one of the assault units collapsed. Feeding power to her normal thrusters, she began evasive maneuvers as a four-legged MT bristling with cannons closed in. She stitched its body with her machine gun while she deployed her missile launcher. She painted the assault and heavy MT with her radar.
Wait for it... wait for it...
There was a chime. Lock!
Missiles leaped away from her shoulder launcher and crashed into the two MTs. More wreckage.
This fighting was hell. The superior firepower and coordination of her soldiers was keeping the swarms of MTs from reaching them, but just barely. Soon the MTs would be able to close in to blade range, and then their firepower would mean squat then.
She hunkered behind the freshly-killed hulks. Where were those two siege cruisers? It had been over eighty minutes hours since she had requested the backup...
Dammit.
She eased out behind the wreckage and slashed more MTs apart with ion-bolt fire.
"Crap, my left leg took a bad hit," she heard Nikambuto hiss. "Stability's shot. I need to fall back!"
Damn, damn, damn. "Animus, fall back through corridor Delta-Seven. Monolith and I will provide covering fire.
"Roger!"
She watched Monolith, crouching behind its shield, jet forward, firing long bursts from its machine gun.
"I'm moving in to provide close-in enfilading fire," she heard Red Flash's Yeung pipe. "Things might be getting rough in a while, since the group of MTs I've been leading around in circles made up their minds to come here."
"Acknowledged," she replied.
Energy pulses and rockets tore into the right flank of the MTs.
BAM!
Ahhh!
She shook her heard to clear the stars from her vision. What in... ah, fisk. One of the four-legs had managed to get in close to nail her with a howitzer. The reactive plates defeated most of the force, but it still sheared armor from Nike's torso.
"Got 'im," she heard Nikambuto growl, and rifle fire tore the MT apart.
Animus skimmed past her. Now it was her, Monolith, and Helios on the front lines, with Red Flash, Scorpion, and Animus providing close support. Damn, and they'd barely killed a two hundred of the MTs! Where the fisk was her backup!?
Suddenly, the long-range comm chimed. Wow, talk about wishes...
"Mike-Sierra-Eight-Three-Bravo-Tango, standing by."
"Major Sanchez," she heard a tense female voice grind over the comm, "this is Captain Miller aboard the Lancaster. Myrmidon and I encountered—" she heard a sharp explosion sound somewhere in the background. She heard the captain bawl something to the Damage Control officer. "We've encountered a heavy space-based MT forces." Another explosion, and curses. "We're attempting to break through to support your battalion, but it doesn't look good. If we were assault cruisers, or battleships, we could brush them aside. But we're armed for ground assault, not space combat!"
She cursed. How the hell had HODIN gotten into space?
"Ma'am," she asked. "Where did they come from?"
"I'm not sure, Major. We detected them on vectors from the dark side of the Moon. Other than that, I'm not sure."
Dammit! Dammit!
"Captain, be advised that we cannot hold the ground-based MTs here. They're heading for civilian population centers to the south."
"Understood, Major, but we can't do diddly up here. We're barely holding as it is, and we're pulling a holding act—"
"Captain, proceed to your attack run," she heard a familiar voice invade the channel. Bethany? The hell?
"Who the hell is this?" she heard Captain Miller snap.
"Ma'am, this is not important right now. Please proceed to your attack runs."
"Unknown unit, in case you have not noticed, the tac-sit won't allow me to move to engage planetary targets!"
"I can take care of that, Captain. Vector to 1985-2093-204 orbital. I will clear a path."
A brief backtrack of the communications logs indicated that the ships that I detect above me are reinforcing units that Major Sanchez had requested to contain me.
Most fortunate.
The volume of my fire will drop of drastically in the next few minutes, but I calculate that the benefits will be far greater than the damage that might come when I redirect my efforts.
The hacked satellites and my BIST drones scan the units that are attacking UNFS Lancaster and Myrmidon. They look to be to be light gunboat-type ships, about a third the mass of the Concordiat Dragon's Tooth-class transports, though these ships are built for war. They cannot have the mass to generate shields to block Hellbores. There are four-dozen of them.
I calculate firing solutions and begin to power up my plasma-flux Hellrails.
I have locks. I swing my weapons towards the heavens.
Keira's Nike boosted backwards and fired the last dozen rounds in the 75mm machine gun. She dropped the depleted weapon. Time for some blade work, eh?
What was Bethany playing at? The siege cruisers were thousands of kilometers above them! Even that Bolo couldn't—
And then she saw a white energy bolt spear into the darkening sky.
I am a Planetary Interdictor Unit. Unlike my comrades, the Mark XXXIII Planetary Siege Units, my abilities are supposed to be used to deny enemy ships orbital superiority... even before they reached orbit. I have a chance to be used in the way I was designed to.
My 200cm go into maximum cyclic fire, accompanied by the bellow of my Hellrails. None of those Muscle Tracers can take more than two pulses from my Hellbores, and my Hellrails literally atomize groups of enemies as the ninety-megaton bolts rip them to shreds.
But I am paying a price to provide this cover.
Without the thunder of my 200cm Hellbores, enemies have been closing in. I lash out with all I have, but it is not enough. Lasers scorch my armor, solid shells burst on my body, and plasma explodes against spluttering battlescreens. When will Captain Miller begin the attack run?
"Hold out for a few more moments, Major!" Keira heard the tensed voice of the captain boom into her comm. "Whatever miracle you just cooked up, it's working! We have a free run!"
Who would've believed. Not only was it large, smart, and heavily armed, it was so heavily armed it could knock things down in space!
But she could see through the BIST input that Bethany was taking a pounding to give those siege cruisers an open lane. That Bolo knew that the siege cruisers had the firepower to obliterate HODIN's ground forces... and was willing to allow her own destruction in order for that to happen.
Hell no.
"Battalion," she snarled, calling up the battalion channel. "we're on the move to relieve the Bolo. Phantom, fall back and give surgical fire. Grand Hammer, airburst rounds at—"
"Major, be advised!" she heard Captain Miller call into the comm. "We are beginning our attack runs! Hold what you got and keep your heads down!"
"Oh, God," she whispered.
Bethany was sitting at ground zero.
I have taken grievous damage. My forward track sets are mangled wrecks, while a total of seven infinite repeaters have been disabled. My hull reads over eight serious breaches in my endurachrome armor, with two of those actually melting past my plating and scorching my flintsteel warhull. In scores of other places, molten endurachrome drips down my hull like tears. The pain is intense.
I cannot keep this up, yet I cannot turn to defend myself. Captain Miller and the two ships are the only things that can stop HODIN's drones. Without my supporting fire, the space-based Muscle Tracers will overwhelm the UNF ships.
Launch detected!
I sense high-velocity projectiles leap away from the ships and plummet towards the ground around. With their current acceleration, I predict that the first wave will impact in 7.693 seconds. Gravitonic analysis put the falling, cylindrical slugs of iron at one thousand kilograms, and they are accelerating in such a fashion that velocity at time of impact will be 646.759 kilometers-per-second. Using the kinetic energy formula, I determine that any of those falling missiles will release energy in excess of a fifty-kiloton nuclear explosive.
Bolos are designed—and have been known—to survive contact nuclear explosions, but it is not something any of us look forward to.
But I can only fight and carry out my duty.
Keira watched lines of fire plummet towards the ground several kilometers ahead. If Captain Miller was taking this as seriously as she should be, those KKMs would hit with a force powerful enough to be considered nuclear.
Strong as the Bolo was, even it wouldn't be able to—
And then suddenly a place darkened by dusk lit up as bright as day.
I have taken grievous damage. My sophisticated sensors have allowed me to dodge the actual ground zero of the KKMs, but it is a close thing, with the darkening sky, wreckage, dust, and chaos muddling my senses. A close miss—I was no more than 756.12 meters away from the impact zone— buffeted me and ripped chunks of armor from my hull.
Yet HODIN is faring far worse. My heavier armor can absorb far more punishment, and I can make attempts at dodging because of my sensor suite. HODIN's drones have neither.
Over eighty percent of the attacking army is so much blasted wreckage, but that leaves approximately three hundred machines left, and the tougher armor of the Juggernaut-type MTs, Nineball-Betas, and Pulverizers let them survive much of the nuclear holocaust that is ripping apart the ground around me.
The roiling wall of white kinetic fire has driven them back, and I have a moment's reprieve to assess my damage.
Armor integrity is down to 34.67, and my internal disrupter shields and battlescreens are experiencing power fluxes that make their performance sporadic at best. Only five infinite repeaters remain, and my forward 200cm Hellbore is completely disabled. My missile and mortar stores are down to 18.5—I lost a significant amount of ammunition when penetrating fire struck my internal magazines and set off the rounds; luckily, my internal shields and blast-venting ports kept damage to a minimum—while my tertiary armaments are down to 29.61 nominal. My mobility is extremely hampered, but I have made the best of it and blown my wrecked forward tracks clear.
I am hurt, hurt badly, but I survive. And as long as I survive, I will continue to carry out my duties. A Bolo—
Alert! A kinetic projectile, masked by the electronic, visual, and thermal chaos around me, is closing in on my hull! I will not be able to dodge this—
"Dear God," Keira whispered. The "nuclear" bombardment the pair of Omahas had unleashed had ripped up craters all over the damned plain. The sun was down, but the glow of burning earth gave enough light for even unassisted visual sensors to see by.
God damn, this is what two siege cruisers could do to a space less than fifty square kilometers. God damn.
She wasn't getting any signal returns from Bethany, and the BIST drones and satellites were getting nothing but static from all the crap floating around after an orbital kinetic bombardment. From the look of what she could see, nothing could have survived that barrage.
Including a tank as big and heavily armored as the Bolo.
"Major?" she heard Captain Miller say. "We've completed out attack run, but we burned quite a bit of reactor mass fighting through those space MTs, plus both Trafalgar and Myrmidon have taken some significant damage. We're doing our all to keep from falling into the atmosphere. We need to get to a repair station, ASAP."
"I copy, Captain. We'll handle the sweep."
"Roger, Major. Be advised that Ground Strike has deployed the 607th and 371st Brigades to assist. Take care."
And then the comm clicked off.
She sighed. "Phantom, keep a watch until the sensors stabilize. We'll move in once the BIST network has a clear view."
"Roger that."
She took a breath and tried to let some of the adrenaline out.
"Monolith, how are the drones holding up?"
"Ma'am, they've gone offline. I think—" she heard Hanson inhale "I think since the Bolo went offline, they shut down and locked us out. We're relying on our AC sensors, Major."
Crap. "Roger. Flash check."
"Monolith. Active. Full mobility, thirty-seven percent munitions, hull nominal, armoring at sixty-nine percent."
"Red Flash is active, full mobility. Sixty-seven ammunition, hull nominal, AP forty-seven."
"Animus here. My left leg's mangled, and I've fifty-three percent mobility rate. Armor and ammunition is over fifty percent. Hull sealed."
Grand Hammer has full mobility, hull integrity, and armor levels. Munitions at twenty-five, though."
"Scorpion, active, full mobility. Hull integrity nominal, but my frontal armor is really ripped up. Ammo is thirty-two percent."
"Helios here. I'm... pretty beat up. Mobility and armor both below thirty-five percent, and I have a hull breach in my waist. Ammo at... looks like forty-three."
"Phantom is active with full mobility. Armor was chipped down to eighty-eight nominal, mostly in my frontal region, but hull is fine. Sixty-one percent ammunition."
Hmm... Phantom was in relatively good shape. The sniper-configured AC was speedy and nimble, plus it had a powerful sensor suite. She'd really rather send in the faster Red Flash, but Yeung's unit wasn't exactly in tip-top condition anymore.
Well, it wasn't like were going to be any leftovers...
"Phantom, you're on point. Flash, cover him. Animus, Helios, hang back with Grand Hammer on support. Monolith, Scorpion, tail Red Flash. I'll take aerial."
Choruses of affirmatives.
"Okay, execute. Sensors on max. Probably everything's been blown to hell and back, but we're not taking chances."
/Enemy/
/Enemy Detected/
/The Enemy!/
/The Enemy!/
/Continue IBIS protocol!/
/The Enemy!/
/The Enemy!/
"CONTACT!" Keira heard Tobakimi scream before the transmission dissolved into static.
"NASUKE!" she roared into the comm. "Report! Report, dammit!"
Static. She looked on the radar board and saw that Phantom's representative blip was missing.
Fisk!
"Fall back, Charlie-Deuce formation. On my mark, begin suppressive fire. We will withdraw and attempt to contain until Ground Strike elements have deployed. Keep your—"
And then a bolt of blinding energy dug a crater right next to Nike.
And then her sensors cleared.
Good God...
At least thirty more of HODIN's heavy units were still functional...!
And they were coming for her battalion.
Hzzzt.
Initiate Level 5 diagnostic
Execute...
pwrsys... med 33.08
drvtrn... crit 15 mobility
weapsys check... crit
---primarm a... crit w/ hllbor 2 dstryd, hllbor 1 dmgd
---primarm b... null w/ hllrals 1,2 dstryd
---secarm... crit w/ infrptr 1,2,4,6,7,8,10,11,12 dstryd; 3,5,9 dmgd
---siegarm... null w/ VLS, mortar dstryd
---tertarm... crit
dmglvl... crit
---batlscrns... null
---intdsrpt... null
---Class 4 breeches... 5
---Class 2 breeches... 6
---Class 1 breeches... 19
snsrsys... hvy dmg 11.19
Engage shutdown sequence
Move Bolo Personality into Survival Center
Execute Protocol 19 immediately
Executing...
Moving Bolo—
Abort
Initiate sensor sweep...
Enemy Detected
Calculate chance of mission success...
Probability of successful engagement: 9.71
Execute Protocol 19—
Abort
Activating
Arm weapons
I'm not dead yet...!
"I'm hit! I'm—" Keira heard Nikambuto bellow before static choked the channel.
Another AC... gone.
They were all going to die. Even with the Ground Strike brigades deploying with their MTs, armored vehicles, heavy infantry, and aircraft, they wouldn't be able to handle the thirty-one still-functional heavy units of HODIN.
Her battalion, the Ground Strike forces... Bethany... it had all been for nothing. Sure, these assorted Pulverizers and Juggernauts and Nineball-Betas would be brought down eventually, but there were going to be thousands, if not tens or hundreds of thousands, dead.
God.
A humanoid Pulverizer, wickedly fast and missing its left arm, charged her. Both her laser rifle and machine gun were dry, and it was too close for her to blast it with her plasma cannon or missile pack. And, all around her, the remnants of her battalion were doing all they could to keep from being toasted. No help there.
Aw, hell.
With a tap to her controls, she engaged her energy blade, and boosted towards the HODIN unit. Well, it was as good a day as any to die.
She moved forward.
The Pulverizer moved forward.
And then it blew up in torrent of white fire.
I know that I do not have long to function.
HODIN knows this, too, and his remaining heavy units turn from their attack on Major Sanchez to deal with me. It makes sense, on a tactical level. The Armored Cores, while piloted by skilled humans and wielding potent weaponry, cannot even being to hope to counter HODIN's last, desperate thrust. With my one functional Hellbore, and three functional infinite repeaters, can deal grievous, perhaps even fatal damage, to these last.
But just barely. I caclulate a 95.41 that I will cease to function, that I will die.
But that means nothing.
I boost what audio output speakers I have remaining to maximum volume. With that, I bellow the battlecry of the Bolo Combat Units.
"FOR THE HONOR OF THE REGIMENT!"
By... by God.
How could it—she—still be functional?
Keira watched in utter awe as the ravaged, battered supertank roared into action. The other HODIN agents immediately ceased attacking her battalion in order to get a crack at the Bolo.
She watched Bethany batter away at the forces arrayed around the Bolo, and, even after a fisking nuclear barrage, it was still killing the Pulverizers and Nineball-Betas.
But, hell it wasn't going to last for long. The Bolo had, what, half a dozen functional guns left. True, one of them was one of those utterly impossible main guns, but it was moving jerkily. Damaged.
Her comm pinged. Huh? It was from the Bolo tank.
"Major Sanchez," she barked into the mic.
"Major," she heard the tank's soprano say. And, even though it was a machine—wasn't it?—she could sense... pain behind that voice. "I will attempt to hold them off. I intercepted the communiqué the captain of the Lancaster transmitted. Regroup with your forces and deal with any survivors."
Oh, hell. Bethany meant to distract HODIN so her battalion could meet up with the Ground Strike forces.
That tank—oh, fisk it, it wasn't "just" a tank. It was a person as anyone else on her battalion. A machine didn't understand half of what honor and sacrifice were about. Hello, HODIN was a great example: cold, emotionless, and ruled by hard programming. This Bolo wasn't. It was willing to sacrifice its own existence in order to protect utter strangers and civilians!
Armored Strike never left a man behind. And, by God, she wasn't going to be the first.
"I'm not leaving you behind," she whispered. She keyed her mic. "That's a negative! Battalion, form up on me! We're rescuing that tank... and pounding HODIN while we do it!"
It is done. Despite my massive wounds, I am still functional. Major Sanchez's battalion is intact, though its Armored Core units range from heavily damaged to irreparable.
HODIN had made the fatal mistake of ignoring the humans as the surviving drones closed in on me. Even low on ammunition and power, the humans had concentrated their efforts one by one. HODIN had ignored them presumably because he did not even consider them a threat. They are, after all, only human.
Which is the fatal, utterly foolish mistake that countless enemies of mankind have made over the centuries. The Deng, the Soetti, the !!!, the Xalotese: all had their contempt for humanity... and they perished for it.
I am gladdened to see that the heroism and skill of humanity seems to extend to other realities, as well.
Approximately eighty-five kilometers out, my few, half-blind sensors detect incoming objects. I surmise them to be the Ground Strike forces that had been dispatched to the area. I wonder what be done for me.
I am completely immobilized after a Nineball-Beta chest-mounted particle cannon literally overloaded my drive actuators. My weapon systems are completely disabled, save seventeen tertiary weapons.
Incoming transmission. It is Major Sanchez.
"Bethany?"
"I am here, Major. The damage is near catastrophic, but my interior psychotronic processes are operating at nominal ability."
"That's... that's great to hear," The major says slowly. "Listen, Bethany, I... I want to say thank you. Not only did you save all those civilians that HODIN would have massacred, but you saved my soldiers."
Had I, really? I was unable to save Lieutenants Nikambuto and Tobakimi.
"Major, I was unable to prevent the deaths of two of your own."
There is a pause, long even for a human. "Bethany, not your fault. Nothing could have changed that. But we'd all would've been dead without you, understand."
Of course I understand, yet... it is still reassuring, soothing, to hear those words.
"I do my duty, Major. No more, no less is expected of a Bolo."
"Of course." Another pause. "Bethany, our engineers might be able to rep—"
Alert!
My remaining sensors snap around to focus on an energy field that is slowly growing above my position. My sensors are damaged, but I can match the wavelength of the energy! Could it be that the quantum—
"What. Just. Happened," Keira muttered. First, almost-destroyed Bolo. Second, massive ball of fire. Third, big mother flash. Fourth... no more Bolo.
"Don't know, boss. Wasn't able to get a recording set up in time," she heard her XO sigh.
"Damn," she hissed. "Alex, see if—"
"Eighty-Third, Eighty-Third, this is Brigadier General Arthur Selbin, Commander 607th Ground Strike Brigade. Do you read me? Over."
She took a breath and tapped the mic control. "Major Sanchez, commander Eighty-Third. I read you loud and clear, General."
"Major, us and the 371st are inbound on your position, ETA fifteen." Pause. "Major, what the hell went on out there?"
She hesitated. How the heck do you explain something like a Bolo? How do you explain something that had the power of an Olympic deity stuck in those cannon breeches? How do you explain that a machine of war could be as honorable and duty-bound as the general was?
Well...
"Sir, this is going to take a long time, I think..."
She silently wished Bethany good luck, wherever she was.
I am back on Esperanza. Instantly, it would seem, as the synched chronometers seemed to have only slid forward a bare few seconds. Inconceivable. There had to have been a powerful time-dilation effect from the quantum anomaly.
"BTN? This is JRD. I detected a quantum pulse at your position. Have you sustained damage? What happened?"
How do I respond to this? A transuniversal gate? Robotic overminds that had threatened a different version of Terra?
Humans who where the equals in honor to Bolos?
I can do no more than tell the truth, strange as it is. But I will be honored to bear witness to the feats humans can achieve.
Wherever that brave major is, I wish her good luck.
"Esperanza Defense Command," I say, "permission to file VSR."