Sword and Shield
Chapter 11: Make my day!
Lævateinn 1. n. In Norse mythology, Lævateinn is a sword mentioned in the Poetic Edda poem Fjölsvinnsmál. 2. n. The name given to the ARX-8 Arm Slave upon its completion.
26 March 2000, 07:15 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Guest Housing
Sitting in the room they'd been offered on base Christian Amanpour tapped at her laptop with a phone at her ear, a scowl of concentration on her face as she watched the footage from the fight in Hong Kong and footage other crews had captured of the battle in Sydney a year before. She recognized the Arm Slaves in many of the images as the same type she'd witnessed broken amongst the vehicles destroyed in the battle. M9E Gernsbacks she'd been told by the Mithril personnel, and she could see the similarities to the XM9 that was displayed in the open book beside the desk she was working on, a copy of Jane's Arm Slave Identification Guide.
The scattered remains of a simple breakfast lay around the laptop, an empty carton of orange juice, some toast with jam, and an English muffin. The two occupants had been busy throughout the night, researching, calling sources, and desperately searching for scraps of information to couple with what they already knew.
Her producer was on the phone with Atlanta desperately getting her the resources she needed. The interview with the Mithril personnel had produced gold. Word of a couple legendary figures within the organization had eventually been drawn out from them. The list of names on her legal pad was filled with names of famous individuals. Admiral Jerome Borda, General Mayer Amit, Captain "The Duke" Mardukas, and Roy Seals had been individuals she had been able to unearth mountains of information on.
Other names were turning up nothing, Lieutenant Commander Kalinin, Captain Teletha Testarossa, Uruz Team, Angel, Ruby, Dawn, Arbalest and Laeventein.
Then there was word of technologies that the organization had possessed: a submersible aircraft carrier named Tuatha de Danaan, electronic camouflage systems, artificial intelligences, and a number of devices that the group could barely describe as if they weren't fully understood. These devices were circled on her legal pad: Lambda Driver, Fairy Feather, Omni-sphere, and TAROS. She'd almost laughed until she'd seen a file shot from an intervention that the others hadn't remembered to mention of an Arm Slave leaping from a bridge onto a submarine.
The Mithril personnel had also let slip a few nicknames that the American military had come to use to identify their activities: "Greenback Black", "The Dwarves", "Toy Box", and "Silver Thunder". Those names had produced results when she'd called the pentagon correspondent and asked to see what they could dig up.
Slowly the pieces were beginning to come together. The Pentagon correspondent had called back an hour after she'd asked for the information and faxed a United States Navy report on a submarine known as "Toy Box" that a contact had slipped her. Most of the other names were simply in house names for Mithril itself. An operation that was launched with Mithril was "Greenback Black" referring to the mercenaries and the secrecy required. An attack by Mithril was called "Silver Thunder" and "The Dwarves" referred to those that produced Mithril's advanced equipment.
The pentagon correspondent had also managed to pull together a mass of information on the organization called Amalgam. Images from intelligence reports that had been passed to her had been marked with annotations where agents had given information as to what Mithril knew of each.
The schematics of one arm slave matched those of what she'd seen the M9s fight in Hong Kong and the information that accompanied it made her swallow quietly.
Plan 1058 Chodarl(m)
Nato Codename: "Snake-A"
Mithril Codename: "Venom" All Lambda Driver equipped units beside Behemoth and Belial are called Venoms in Mithril.
This now mass-produced Lambda Driver equipped arm slave is amongst the most dangerous found worldwide. The exact number currently active worldwide remains unknown but the appearance of five of such units at once in Hong Kong makes the likelihood of wide spread use of this unit by the terrorist organizations that Amalgam supports highly likely. Shared information from Mithril operations report that these units cannot be easily countered without Lambda driver equipped Arm Slaves. Efforts are underway to find tactics that can bypass the protective qualities of the Lambda drive.
Like all Amalgam produced Lambda Driver equipped units, the Lambda Driver suffers significant cooling problems and is extremely taxing to the pilot to operate properly. For this reason it is believed that Amalgam is using a number of advanced drug compounds to augment their pilot's ability to interface with the Lambda Driver. Mithril has reportedly refused such an approach due to a decline in pilot's sanity from the effects of the drugs.
It is believed that these units may be undergoing operational field testing in the Soviet Union under the name Testarossa-Zostoya 100(m) or TZy-100(m). It's believed that the underlying structural framework of the units and their muscle packages are derived from the Zostoya Zy-98 Shadow-A. The CIA reports other models are undergoing experimental field trials as well under either the designation of Testarossa (Ts) or Testarossa-Zostoya (TZy) including the Chodarl(i). How the Soviet Union intends to utilize these units with their dependence on pilot's modified by drug cocktails is currently unknown.
Christian Amanpour set the report down and rubbed her forehead. "This is going to take more than a few hours to pull together. We've still got huge holes in the story. How did Mithril get this technology? How did Amalgam? Why is the Lambda Driver so important in all these reports?" She shook her head slowly and glanced back at the laptop as the imagery from Hong Kong played once again. She stopped it as an unidentified Arm Slave engaged a Chodarl(i) and a pair of bubbles flashed around both units, one red the other an off blue.
"Christian?" Her producer asked as he noticed she was staring at the image.
"It looks like something from a science fiction movie." She spun the image around to face her. "What does that look like to you?"
The man blinked remembering the bubble shields that had appeared in the last science fiction film he'd seen. "Some sort of shield."
"All these reports mention something called a Lambda driver. That might be it." Christian said. "This was taken in Hong Kong last year when Mithril engaged Amalgam. I don't know what that mech is but some pictures from the Jindai High School incident show the same unit."
"One of Mithril's prototypes then?" The producer said.
"Maybe, it certainly fits." She pursed her lips and glanced back over the information she'd gathered. "One thing still doesn't make sense though… Why did America turn on them?"
"Especially considering what it cost them, I was in the Gulf during Desert Storm… before the nuclear bomb on Baghdad." He shook his head. "The last time I saw that many wrecked vehicles it was a highway near the Iraq and Kuwait border."
"Highway 80?" She asked glancing back at the video they'd taken earlier on the flyover to the base.
"Yeah." The producer nodded slowly.
"The Highway of Death." She frowned slightly. "The American Military lost hundreds of vehicles this morning, but the death toll is only… what one-hundred and fifty-three?"
"Including Mithril personnel, it's almost bizarre." Her producer stated.
"We need to go get some more footage of that battlefield." She said after a moment.
An explosion echoed in the distance and the two of them froze, a siren was wailing in the distance and Christian scrambled away from the table, her eyes wide and stumbled toward the window. Throwing it open and squinting in the early morning light she spotted a column of smoke begin to rise in the distance.
"Get the camera crew up! Something's happening."
26 March 2000, 07:19 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Arm Slave Maintenance Hangar
Al stepped out of the hangar, the two secondary arms clutching an Otto/Melala "Boxer 2" 100mm shot cannon loaded with a mixture of 76mm sabot shells and AS sized buckshot shells. In the other arm the Laevatein held tight to the massive 165mm howitzer's barrel attachment while the actual weapon was clutched tightly between his massive hands.
Three Humvees backed away in front of him, two armed with machine guns while the third mounted a TOW anti-tank missile launcher.
Compensating for recoil, Lambda driver activated…
A dull glow shimmered into existence around the massive mech just as the Americans opened fire peppering the mech with .50 caliber rounds which bounced harmlessly off the blue shield of the lambda driver. Then a TOW missile smashed into the shield exploding as it hit.
Al lifted the howitzer into the middle of the group and fired. The TOW equipped Humvee was tossed back as metal splinters from the massive artillery shell whipped through the air and tore into the thin skinned cars. The soldiers inside nursed bleeding ears from the concussion and one of the men who had stood behind his .50 caliber machine gun dropped into the cabin bleeding profusely.
"Pointless." Al stated as he stepped past the wrecks and reloaded the howitzer.
A siren wailed in the distance and Al took stock of the situation for the moment. Primary Objective: Retrieve Sarah Miller and transport her to one of the Gulfstream G. IV Jets. Secondary Objective: Self Destruct this unit to prevent it from falling into enemy hands. Tertiary Objective: Cause as much damage as possible.
Base alert issued… estimated time till initial mobilization of five minutes. Travel time to Sarah Miller's quarters at three minutes twelve seconds.
Al stepped off and broke into a run toward her quarters. Prepared to initiate close combat, hostile forces are guarding the objective.
Welcome to Ragnorok, you bastards…
26 March 2000, 07:20 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
5th Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division
Specialist David Johnson scrambled up to the kneeling form of his M6 Bushnell, kneeling in the vehicle park as the siren echoed throughout the base. Benny, the technician in charge of the unit swore as the other members of the unit scrambled for their arm slaves.
"What the hell is going on!" He called out as David pulled himself up the mech.
David pulled himself into the cockpit and turned to face his comrade. "I have no fucking clue man, just keep your head down!"
"That's half my job man!" He called out as the hatch hissed shut.
26 March 2000, 07:22 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Home of Sarah Miller, On-base Officer's Quarters
Sarah Miller swallowed as she leaned against the side of the door, her hands wrapped tightly around the cool metal of her FN Five-seveN pistol. Through the wood she could hear the whispered conversation of her guards, complaining about the cold. A base alert siren wailed in the distance and she smiled.
Al is coming. She took a deep breath. He'll be here any second and drive these guys away.
The even bang of twenty-five millimeter cannon echoed just outside her door followed by the sound of a missile launch. Seconds later an explosion rattled the house and she heard wood splinter from metal shrapnel. Her ears rung from the concussion and she shook her head to clear them.
The firing stopped and Sarah smashed through the door stopping in surprise as she saw the two Bradley IFVs that had been sitting just outside to guard her home tossed onto their sides perforated by splinters from an enormous howitzer shell. The ARX-8 Laevantein stood over a humvee that had been cleaved in two by a monomolecular cutter, one of the sergeants that had escorted her to the meeting with the colonel sat inside, his hands raised above his heads in surrender.
A smirk slipped across her lips as she scrambled past them and waved. "Bye Sergeant."
The cockpit to the ARX-8 popped open with a hiss and she scrambled up its form using a set of handholds. Her arms ached ass he pulled her way up the last few meters into the cockpit and tumbled into the master room. Twisting around, she settled inside seat and fastened the restraints just before the hatched hissed shut. Only the single monitor off to the side flickered to life displaying the surrounding area.
"Welcome aboard Sarah, I suggest you hold on tight. The Americans are scrambling to intercept us."
A series of alarms echoed in the cockpit and the cracked tactical display lit up with multiple contacts. Sarah's eyes widened in concern as she felt the AS move around her and a whine echoed from where the Lambda driver was mounted. "Al?"
"Multiple hostiles, don't concern yourself with them Sarah. I will deal with them." The load-out display blinked as the AS switched from the howitzer to the Boxer shot cannon. "Engaging."
26 March 2000, 07:25 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Base Command Bunker
"God damn it, get everything we've got out to stop that Arm Slave!" Colonel Johanns roared as he stared at the tactical displays in the base command post. Around him subordinates scrambled to issue orders while his liaison with the twenty-fifth infantry division screamed on the radio to get the Arm Slaves and tanks of the unit ready. Across from him an Air Force captain was yelling through a satellite phone connection to the Third Wing to scramble ground support aircraft.
"Sir, its Lambda driver equipped right, do we have anything that can punch through?" The lieutenant asked.
"No, but a Lambda driver isn't an omnidirectional defense, if we flank him we have a chance." The Colonel said.
"Ice Dragoon squadron, we have contact!" One of the radio channels called out.
Another crackled to life. "Four-three to HQ, rolling to point alpha, have hostile in sight."
The Colonel scowled. Damn you Miller, you could have helped us but who's to say you won't sell your talents to our enemies. It seems I have to end you. Lifting the receiver he took a deep breath. "All units engage at will. Bring that thing down."
26 March 2000, 07:27 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Hangar Group 12 – Valkyrie Squadron Aircraft Storage
The Laevantein scrambled between a pair of hangar buildings, its hands clasped tightly around the 100mm Boxer 2 shot cannon as it ran. A line of four M1 Abrams tanks sped across the tarmac at full tilt sending a cloud of snow up in the wake. Each one was capable of moving at nearly one-hundred kilometers per hour despite their immense weight of nearly one-hundred tons.
Boxer ammunition mix unsuitable for direct engagement of Abrams… the 45mm diameter buckshot will cause significant damage to the unarmored sensor systems and periscopes but will not penetrate. The 76mm sabot round will only penetrate if fired downward on the roof or upward through the floor. I will have to close in to allow for plunging fire against this opposition.
The air reverberated with the crack of a sabot round slamming through the air at over twice the speed of sound as it flashed over the shoulder of the mech and pierced through the armored hangar. Al ducked down low for a moment then jumped, using the massively powerful leg muscles of the unit to hurl himself over the hangar. As he spun through the air he caught sight of six more hostiles, a team of M6 Bushnells clambering their way through the buildings toward his position.
Inside the chest of the mech Al watched Sarah's face turn a ghostly pale as the g-forces of the maneuver slammed into her. She gasped as the mech landed and Al noted her reaction.
I must be more careful, she is not as strong as Sagara. I do not wish to arrive at the egress point with her passed out.
He lifted his 100mm Boxer shot cannon as his feet hit the roof of one of the armored hangars and fired sending a 76mm sabot screaming through the air and into the roof of one of the tank turrets. The armor storage compartment blew open with a flash and the two panels that covered it fluttered down through the air as bright red and light flashes shot from the inside like a fireworks display.
"One down." Al's voice stated both inside and outside the massive mech as he scrambled off the roof just before a high explosive shell slammed into it and sent metal splinters sparking across his armor.
26 March 2000, 07:28 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
3rd Squadron, 4th Cavalry Regiment, 3rd Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division
Inside one of the tanks the four man crew was working frantically. "Target, AS two o'clock, load HEAT!"
"Gun up!" The loader yelled inside the M1 Abrams as the gunner pressed his eyes to the scope and followed the swiftly moving arm slave through the thermal sights.
"Ready." The gunner called out as the tank commander stared through his periscope.
"Fire." The tank commander stated.
The gunner punched the trigger on his controls and the tank lurched as the enormous 120mm smoothbore cannon set a high explosive anti-tank shell rocketing toward the red and white arm slave at just under a thousand meters a second.
"Shot gone!" The gunner yelled as the loader leapt into action grabbing another round.
A flash of blue-white light encircled the mech through the tank periscope and the HEAT round exploded three meters from its target, expending all its energy uselessly against the shield. The commander's eyes widened as the massive mech skidded to a stop and lifted its own 100mm shot cannon and fired.
Forty-five millimeter buckshot tore through the external sensors, ripping apart the commander's periscope and thermal imaging system for the guns. The man stared in shock at the blackened screens before a bang echoed in the tank followed by the grim sound of a ricocheting shell bouncing around inside the tank reached his ears. An alarm echoed in each compartment as the ammo compartment sealed itself and vented.
"Condition red! Everybody out! Bail out!" The commander yelled as he pushed open the hatch and scrambled out into the cold air of the Alaskan morning.
The second round from the shot cannon had sent a 76mm sabot tearing through the driver's compartment, bouncing through the turret traverse mechanism before tearing through the gas turbine of the engine. Glancing down at the driver's compartment the commander could see the hole from the round's entry atop the driver's hatch and a splatter of blood from the station. Then glancing up he saw the AS shift its aim to the next tank in the formation and fire.
26 March 2000, 07:29 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
5th Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division
"Two and three!" The robotic voice announced as Specialist David Johnson scrambled around the corner of a hangar. His M6's arms clasped tight around the boxer shot cannon. Just ahead of him, his section leader lifted his 40mm rifle and let loose sending hissing white tracers toward the foe. Round after round either sputtered and flashed against the shield of the Lambda driver or ricocheted away, gouging divots in the tarmac or arcing high into the air to fall far from its intended target.
Before he could react, the mech pulled an anti-tank dagger from a holster on its knee and hurled it into the section leader. A blinding flash marked the impact as the shaped charge within the weapon sent the blade slamming through the armor and tearing it apart.
"Jesus! This is Ice Dragoon Nine. Lead is down! Take cover!" David yelled as he maneuvered the mech back around the hangar before a follow up shot could take him down. "Someone flank him. Hostile is a Venom!"
The radio crackled as an M1 Abrams sped by the hangar driving as fast as it could in reverse, the commander's cupola machine gun firing a continuous barrage of .50 caliber ammunition as it passed. "Four-three, lost three tanks… we're withdrawing from combat! Four-Three-Baker and Four-Three-Charlie are en-route but they're under-strength. God, get us some air support!" Another anti-tank dagger flashed past and struck the tank just below the gun mantle. David watched in horror as the entire turret was pulled from its mount and flames flashed out from inside.
"Roger this is Wolf Six-Three, we have Apache's en-route. They do not have a full combat load… there wasn't time."
"Four-three is down, I saw his tank… Jesus, I think they're all dead." David said as his fingers tightened around the controls. Shit, I thought fighting M9s was bad, what the hell is this thing. It's like a Venom but… Mithril? He swallowed down a lump in his throat. "Ice Dragoon Nine to HQ, do you guys have any ideas… it's like fighting a Snake, but worse!"
"Understood Ice Dragoon Nine, continue combat. Reinforcements are en-route!"
How? His mind yelled as two of his comrades in their M6s rushed around the corner of the hangar and opened fire. Swallowing down a lump he spun around as well and raised his shot cannon just as the boom of the enemy's gun echoed in the cockpit. Forty-five millimeter pieces of buckshot ripped through the body of one of the M6s and the unit dropped, smoke and steam rising from its smashed body.
David swore and centered the reticule on the enemy Arm Slave before it suddenly leapt away out of sight. A pair of Ah-64D Apache Longbows screamed overhead, their cannons chattering with fire as they tried to bracket the swift Arm Slave.
Before he could shout a warning, the leaping Arm Slave fired again, skewering one of the Apaches through the engine with a sabot round. Its engine dead the Apache's rotors slowed before it plowed into the side of a maintenance shed. The red and white AS disappeared from view once again.
26 March 2000, 07:32 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Maintenance Building A-4
Christian Amanpour did her best to ignore the biting cold as she stood on the roof of one of the maintenance buildings beside her camera crew. Clasped in her hands were a set of binoculars that she kept trained on the fight to the south. The clap of explosions and flash of tracers were of an intensity that she'd never seen in a battle she'd witnessed.
It's no wonder these two forces caused so much destruction so fast. The Serbs and Bosnians never had the same level of intensity. This must be the difference between a trained professional army and those… mobs.
"Whoa! Look at that thing move." One of the cameramen said as he struggled to track the red and white AS that the Americans were focused on it. A shield flashed to life as cannon rounds from one of the Apache's arced toward it, blocking each round as if it were nothing.
"Unbelievable." Her producer whispered as the AS spun and lifted what appeared to be shotgun up and fired, smashing the Apache and dropping it like a hunter out for birds. After a fireball rose from the impact sight the shockwave echoed over them and Christian winced at the sound.
"It's heading toward those hangars!" The cameraman called out as Christian Amanpour watched two more Bushnells rush to intercept the massive mech.
We might not have gotten footage of the fight before, but this is unbelievable. She thought. "We should take cover, they're getting closer!"
"Right!" One of the cameramen yelled as he began to back toward the roof access. The reverberation of heavy rounds cutting through the air drove them both toward the comparative shelter of the innards of the building.
26 March 2000, 07:35 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
5th Squadron, 1st Cavalry Regiment, 1st Brigade Combat Team, 25th Infantry Division
David swore as his shots burst uselessly against the shield of the red and white mech. "Fuck, this just isn't fair!"
A barrage of buckshot ripped through the air beside him and dropped the last member of his section beside himself. Swallowing down a lump as he heard his comrade's scream before the rumble of the multi-ton body dropping to the ground, David backed away pumping his boxer and firing as quickly as he could.
The white and red arm slave raced forward a monomolecular cutter appearing in his hand and slammed into him, knocking him through the armored doors of a hangar. Sparks shot off the blade as it glanced off his shot cannon.
"ERA equipped." A robotic voice stated and suddenly the mech dropped the cutter and kicked the shot cannon out of his hands before it drew its huge Boxer 2 shot cannon from its back.
David jerked in his seat, rolling out from under the mech and grabbed at the shot cannon, as its hands grasped the weapon he found himself staring into the gaping maw of the 100mm bore of his opponent's weapon.
"I know what you're thinking, did he fire seven shots or eight? Because if I fired seven shots there'd be one in the chamber, but if I fired eight… this weapon would be empty. To tell the truth in all this excitement I lost track, so I have one question for you? Do you feel lucky punk?"
David felt his blood run cold at the robotic rant, whoever or whatever was piloting that thing knew he was no threat. Shit.
In the cockpit Sarah smirked. Sagara always said the AI had a sense of humor, but where'd this come from? Perhaps he's been downloading movies or something.
"Come on, make my day." The statement echoed across the tarmac as the ARX-8 Laevantein lowered its smoking shot cannon to point directly at the cockpit of the M6 that was struggling beneath it. When the hatch popped open with a hiss and the pilot raised his hands in surrender, the enormous robot pulled the trigger and a mechanical clack showed that the weapon was empty. Then it lifted the weapon and tossed it aside.
"Get out of here." He stated.
Sarah smiled and glanced at the display. "Al, let's get going."
"Proceeding to egress point." Al stated.
An idea appeared as she glanced at the singular display and pursed her lips trying to ignore the chafing from the harness and the way her stomach clenched at the sudden movements of the mech. She took a deep breath. "Good, open a communications channel on US military frequencies. No encryption, I want them all to hear this." Sarah smiled at the internal optics.
"Roger. Channel open." The robotic voice replied and she heard the internal optics whir slightly as if rotating to study her.
26 March 2000, 07:37 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Base Command Bunker
Colonel Johanns felt sweat run down his cheek as he glanced at the display. "Shit, get the whole damn division geared up… our first responders are all down!"
"Yes sir, I'll get divisional command. Shouldn't you inform Washington?" One of the radio specialist's asked.
"Don't worry about that. Just do your damn job!" The Colonel yelled as he stared at the displays. "Damn it!"
"Sir, the AS is broadcasting on our channels in the clear." One of the communications specialists called out from his seat.
The Colonel growled. "Put it through damn it!"
With a click the speakers let a familiar voice fill the room. "Colonel Johanns, after due consideration I've decided not to accept your offer. Either one of them, I am… taking a third option? Be advised that this AS is Lambda driver equipped and configured to use the device as part of its self-destruct protocol. It will detonate within one hour, and while doing the math in my head is a pain, I think I'm right in saying that you don't want to be anywhere near a 1.2 kiloton explosion. Keep trying to stop me from leaving and this AS will show you how it defeated the most powerful AS ever constructed."
"Damn it Sarah!" The Colonel roared.
With a click the transmission cut off. The Colonel snarled. "Fuck! We don't have a choice, signal an evacuation, get everyone off base and someone get me Washington. If the russkies see that thing light up without warning it could cause a goddamn nuclear war!"
26 March 2000, 07:40 hrs
Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Hangar 9-B
So this is what it feels like to kick snow in the face of a world superpower? Sarah smirked to herself. She'd come a long way from the shaken girl that'd been rescued from Siberia, running out of the hands of the Soviet Union and into the waiting arms of Mithril. Now she was running again, but this time it felt better, much better.
"Al boosted self-destruct protocol one hour detonation." She said as she felt the AS move around her. Through the display she could see the four Gulfstream IV jets that Mithral had used to ferry important personnel.
"Roger, now arriving at egress point. I am beginning to disengage from the ARX-8s systems. I have intercepted an evacuation order from the Colonel and can see soldiers loading into trucks. It seems they took your threat seriously." The AS knelt down beside one of the Gulfstream IV jets and the hatches opened with a hiss.
"Good, if we take out the base too maybe they'll get the message not to screw with a whispered." Sarah said as she unstrapped herself from the harness. "Disconnect yourself."
"Disconnecting."
Pursing her lips she watched the displays and saw a chain of error messages indicating the failure of the AI system. It's not a failure it just disconnected. She pulled open a panel and removed a set of connections to a box around the size of a suit case then pulled it free, grasping a carrying handle.
As she stumbled out of the arm slave she fell, hitting the ground with a thud. Damn Al, I had no idea you were this heavy. She stumbled upright and grabbed the suitcase and stumbled to the jet. She scrambled through the hatch and dropped Al beside the entrance before walking up to the cockpit and staring at the controls. All this planning and I forgot one thing, I can't fly.
Scowling to herself she leaned over the cockpit and stared at the instruments for a moment before spotting a set of familiar ports for an AI. She spun back and grabbed Al, lugging the box into the copilot's seat and pulling out some cables from beside the port. After a moment the speakers in the cockpit crackled to life.
"Miss Miller, you do realize I was not designed to fly a plane."
"I know, base it off the rapid deployment controls or something. This is our only real chance." Miller said as she slipped into the cockpit and pulled on a set of headphones.
"Roger. Beginning startup sequence and engaging ECS. Perhaps I should quickly see if there is any flight instruction available online."
"But…" Miller began remembering just how isolated they were.
"That was a joke, Miss Miller."
"Very funny Al." She muttered to herself before sitting behind the pilot's seat and strapping in. Out the windows she saw the plane had begun rolling, taxing toward the runway. All around military vehicles were streaming for the base exits cutting across the runway in some cases.
As the plane turned onto the runway she glanced at the speaker nervously. "You do know what you're doing right?"
"I repeat: I was not designed to fly a plane." As Al spoke the engines revved up to full and plane ran down the runway.
Miller swore as a Humvee flashed past in front of them barely missing their stealth aircraft before it climbed into the sky. The bright early morning enveloped them as the plane rose. Taking a deep breath Sarah unfastened the harness and leaned back in the plush seat. "Al, eta?"
"Seven hours, I am afraid we will be very low on fuel when we arrive."
Sarah nodded and pulled her coat off, dropping it to the deck behind the seats. As the cabin warmed she removed the additional layers one after another. As the last layer beside her clothes dropped to the floor she glanced at the time.
26 March 2000, 11:41 hrs
Washington, District of Columbia, United States
White House Situation Room
President Bill Clinton strode into the situation room, ignoring the rising of the aids and staffers as he entered and glared at the monitors. Only two feeds were active, one from the National Reconnaissance Office, the second was from CNN news.
"Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?" The president asked as his National Security Advisor followed him in and stared at the screens. "Sandy?"
"I have no idea sir."
The two of them glanced at the CNN feed and swallowed as the familiar face of Christian Amanpour appeared in a window beside Wolf Blitzer. The bar along the bottom of the screen announced breaking news as the woman began to speak swiftly.
"Wolf, as far as we can tell a renegade Arm Slave pilot, possibly one of the prisoners from the recent assault on the Mithril base here managed to steal an advanced Arm Slave and use it to affect an escape." She glanced at her notes for a moment. "Apparently as part of the escape he set some sort of self-destruct… we're being told to evacuate. Already the military is loading everyone into trucks, Mithril personnel, prisoners, and other correspondents."
"Can you tell us anything else Christian?" Wolf asked.
The reporter hesitated for a moment then nodded. "Yes Wolf, some of my sources here tell me the Arm Slave in question was equipped with some sort of experimental device called a 'Lambda' Driver. We're not sure what it is, but from the way everyone is reacting it must be dangerous… we've got some footage of the fight. I should warn you, some of it is rather graphic."
The president swallowed as a red and white AS decimated the opposition before it, destroying four M1 Abrams tanks on camera before wiping out a section of M6 Bushnells. His throat dry he glanced at the National Security Advisor. "Who is administrating the base?"
"Colonel Michael Johanns." The National Security Advisor answered. "I got his report here but haven't gotten a chance to read it."
The door to the room opened and General Henry Hugh Shelton stepped inside, a worried expression on his face. "Mister President, it seems we need to call Moscow."
Bill Clinton glanced between his two aids. "Why exactly?"
"The escapee is the whispered Sarah Miller. She set the Lambda Driver aboard the ARX-8 Laevantein to overload as part of the self-destruct. The Soviets might see it as a nuclear launch or other provocative act." He said quickly. "It could cause them to… overeat and launch a retaliatory strike."
The President swallowed and walked over to the teletype machine to Moscow, the direct line to the Kremlin. "Hell."
26 March 2000, 08:40 hrs
9 km South of the Mithril Base, State of Alaska, United States
Ridge 1540, Site of the Battle
Christian Amanpour swallowed as she glanced at her watch. Behind her the burnt out hulks from the struggle to gain the base sat. The 25th Division's media liaison officer had gotten lost in the scramble to escape, but word from the grunts had told them of what was about to occur. Some of the AS pilots had said it outright… Lambda Driver detonation, though no one seemed to know what it actually meant, how far from the base they would have to be for their safety or just how dangerous the event would be.
But they had a time.
The camera beside her whirred quietly as the man who set it up checked the focus on the single AS that sat on the tarmac its red and white paint making it stand out against the drab concrete. He glanced warily at her as she passed. "Any word on how bright this is supposed to be?"
Christian shook her head and took a deep breath. "I suppose we should all look away, there's no telling how…"
A blue white flash engulfed the entire base. A second later a rumble washed over them as a shockwave hit. Christian stared as the flash faded… and then gaped in shock. The base was gone… disappearing with the flash and leaving only a huge divot in the earth like some cosmic hand had reached down and scooped it up, removing it from the world. Beyond it the trees swayed from the shockwave but few broke and no fires or flames started amongst them.
"What the hell is a Lambda driver?" She asked the thin air and stared at the empty piece of land and swallowed back a lump in her throat.
"Should we go to the medics and ask them to check us for radiation?" Her producer suggested quietly.
"Yes… I think we should." She swallowed down the bile that rose in her throat. "There's no telling what we were just exposed to."
No telling at all…
27 March 2000, 04:01 hrs.
Merida Island, South Pacific
Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 4 Field Operations Base
"Say Melissa, does this mean we'll never have to put you on birth control again?" Kurz Weber joked as he adjusted the carrying straps on the M16A3 that was clutched in his hands. Each wore a camouflaged NBC suit and face mask that rendered them all but gender less and extremely, painfully, hot. Apparently nuking Merida Island didn't make it any less tropical, so it was hot even in the middle of the night.
A gloved fist slammed into the top of his head from his compatriot. "Shut it Kurz, our old captain asked us to do one last thing for the old TDD-1. Plus, I'm pretty sure you were sterile before we set foot back here."
"So I fire blanks?" He muttered. "Why would Tessa give us red wine on our return?" Kurz asked as he climbed over the burned and shattered refuse of the base. Ahead they could see the canal that connected the old submarine bay to the sea and the hundreds of pieces of camouflaged construction equipment that a team of United States Seabees had moved into place.
Melissa laughed. "You mean you don't know? I guess they didn't teach you any NBC survival skills… wherever the hell you got your training." She took a deep breath. "Drinking it will help cleanse radioactive contamination from your system."
"Hey, only a United States Jar Head would think about actually fighting a war in terrain like this." Kurz shook his head. "I can't believe the nuke didn't finish off the old Danaan."
"The ship was underground and partly submerged in the water Kurz, and then we're not even counting the Lambda driver activation that Al pulled off that saved Sousuke from becoming carbon dust." Mao shrugged and they stopped at the crest of the canal. There the TDD-1 sat in the middle of the rubble with a simple set of pontoon bridges leading across to the ship itself. It was surprisingly intact. Kurz could see where falling debris had dented the hull and large crumpled sections of the nose belayed the collision that had brought the vessel to the center of the base. Apparently Tessa really could build ships.
"Damn it just looks like it had a little fender bender." Kurz muttered. "Did the captain goose somebody while I was away?"
"Come on, pervert. Let's get this mission done before my brain gets fried from the radiation and the heat." Mao said as they walked toward the bridge and nodded to the guards.
"I can't believe Sousuke survived this." Kurz muttered.
Mao snickered. "Power of love? Not even a Nuke could keep him from Angel."
26 March 2000, 13:28 hrs
Washington, District of Columbia, United States
Situation Room
President Bill Clinton shook his head as aircraft from Elmendorf scoured the skies in search of the runaway whispered. The large displays showed a map of Alaska and Artic circle with dozens of green markers declaring the location of flights of fighter, awacs, and other craft. So far they'd turned up nothing.
Russia hadn't responded to the message that had been sent, nor had its alert status increased in any way from reports that NORAD had made. Suddenly a set of red dots appeared on the display over the Soviet Union and he blinked.
"Aircraft confirmed, A-50 'Mainstay'." One of the operators said. "Escorted by Su-35 'Flankers'."
The National Security Advisor swallowed audibly. "Mister President, there still has been no word from Moscow." He glanced at the teletype machine for a moment. "Should we…"
Then the machine spasm into motion printing off a message faster than anyone could type. At the same time the text appeared on a screen beside the aircraft track. Taking a deep breath everyone in the room without an assigned task began to read it.
Comrade President,
It is with great sadness that we hear of the incident that befell your forces in Alaska and the wayward flight of one whispered from your control. Understanding the danger posed by such people outside of government sanction and support we, the people of the great Soviet State will take the following action.
Units of the 11th Air Army are now receiving orders to scramble to aid in your search. They will cover our airspace and the immediate surroundings. If found the whispered will be forced to land and taken into protective custody. If she refuses to land our pilots will take all necessary measures to ensure that her knowledge does not fall into the hands of a non-government entity.
Sincerely,
President and General Secretary of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union,
Comrade General Vladimir Stochkin
The national security advisor snickered. "Damn, he's hoping to steal her for himself!"
27 March 2000, 04:40 hrs
Merida Island, South Pacific
Tuatha de Danaan-class Submarine Carrier Tuatha de Danaan (TDD-1)
Mao walked along the hull of the TDD-1, watching engineers weld despite wearing NBC protection and soldiers walked along the hull on patrol. Security was relaxed, most thought the ship commonly known as 'Toy Box' was destroyed. When coupled with the nuclear wasteland spread out all around them it was obvious why they thought no one would bother.
It also helped that Mao had been a marine. Whenever she encountered one of them she fell back on her experience years before. Some things in the corps never changed, but the clincher was that no one would believe that these two people that were trading barbs could be foreign agents. No foreign agent would do that.
Buried deep down Mao's stomach had been doing backflips since she first dropped a booted foot on the irradiated soil. Every time she glanced at Kurz she could see that he felt much the same, the leisurely stance he usually held himself in was tighter wound, uncomfortable. Finally they came to the rear boarding hatch. Pulling open the external hatch Mao watched Kurz glance around the area nervously.
"I'm not sure I ever was in the engine room." Kurz muttered.
Mao shrugged as she clambered down the ladder to the second hatch, the internal one and started to open it. "It's not like it was diesel powered or anything. Palladium reactors don't look like engines we typically think of."
Kurz clambered into the compartment and shut the top hatch behind him leaving the two of them alone for the moment. "God this feels weird."
"You're telling me." Mao muttered as she pulled the bottom hatch open. "I thought the Hong Kong and Tokyo operations were disconcerting." She sighed. "Come on, we've got a ship to scuttle."
27 March 2000, 05:44 hrs
Petropavlovsk-Kamchatsky Airport, Kamchatka Oblast, Soviet Union
865th Interceptor Aviation Regiment (IAP), 11th Air Army
"Da, I understand comrade. Yes comrade, we will continue to monitor the situation but if she stole a Mithril aircraft we'll almost certainly be unable to detect her." Colonel Sergei Amir stood in the headquarters building of the 865th IAP, a phone clasped to his ear.
A cool and collected voice answered him on the other end of the line. "Colonel, your concerns about their ECS systems is noted, but your orders stand. You are to intercept the Gulfstream G. IV if it enters our airspace and force it to land. Its crew will be taken into protective custody and the aircraft studied."
"Da comrade, even their civil aircraft are ECS equipped and our MiG-31s— Comrade! We don't even know if she's coming this way. Maybe she went to Canada or Europe."
Outside the brightly lit runways of the airbase were crammed with aircraft. A full ten plane squadron was on the taxiway as he spoke and flights of four rolled down the runway drowning out his hearing every thirty seconds. "I am scrambling our planes for the search but without a decent ECCS system I'm afraid we'll never see them."
"You will have better luck than the Americans. Your craft are equipped with infrared sensor domes, are they not? ECS cannot totally hide the infrared signature of an aircraft. Use that to track it down." The man on the other end of the line answered. "Do try to avoid a conflict if the Americans send interceptors up after her."
"Understood Comrade General." With a sigh he slammed down the phone and looked out the window. "Like sending biplanes chasing after a jet, we don't stand a chance in hell."
Shaking his head he walked to the pilot's locker for his G-suit. Orders were orders, and he would carry his out. He had no intention of being lined up against a wall and shot.
27 March 2000, 05:56 hrs
Near the International Date Line, North Pacific
Gulfstream Nineteen
"The Russians are looking for us too." Sarah said to herself as she looked down at the passive radar display in the cockpit, at the edge of range maybe five hundred kilometers or further she could see new contacts ahead. Smirking to herself she leaned back in the chair. "Waste of fuel." She laughed and slipped out of the pilot's seat heading back to the cabin area. This was a diplomat's jet that meant there was a tiny kitchen somewhere aboard, at least someplace to make coffee.
She needed coffee. The flight to and from Okinawa coupled with the demands made upon her by Colonel Johanns had completely destroyed her sleep cycle. It's only five more hours, you can handle five more hours can't you? She sighed.
"I concur. Sending those planes to find us seems like a waste of fuel. Those MiG-31 radars are powerful but not designed with detecting a plane with ECS aboard. The Americans seem to have given up with that Awacs."
"Not quite, we'll probably be dodging them around Hokkaido again. They do have bases in Japan after all." Sarah mused to herself. She smirked as she found a coffee maker hidden in a cabinet and set to work.
27 March 2000, 05:01 hrs.
Merida Island, South Pacific
Tuatha de Danaan-class Submarine Carrier Tuatha de Danaan (TDD-1)
Melissa and Kurz stepped into the engine room, their weapons hanging idly from the web gear they wore along with the NBC suits. Inside a pair of Seabees leaned over one of the drive motors and seemed to be at work with a set of spanners.
One of them glanced up as they walked in. "Huh, what are you two jar-heads doing?"
"Patrolling the ship." Mao answered automatically. "What's it look like we're doing?"
The Seabee shrugged and went back to work as Mao pulled an electronic key from her pocket and walked up to the main control console. Beside her Kurz pulled out an identical one. Without a glance they inserted the keys at the console, looked at each other and nodded. They turned the keys.
The display lit up and the two Seabees stood as a dull thrum echoed in the room. "What the hell?"
Mao tapped the display and selected ten minutes as Kurz chambered a round in his rifle. Without blinking she tapped the execute key.
"Scuttle protocol initiated. Self-Destruct by Palladium Reactor Overload in ten minutes. Evacuate. Evacuate."
"I always thought the announcements were sexier when the AI was online. She had a voice." Kurz called out as the Seabees stared at the two of them. Smirking Kurz waved. "Mithril says, auf wiedersehen. Better run, suckers."
As the Seabees ran for the exit Mao smacked him in the face and shrugged. "One track mind."
"You know you love it. Now let's get out of here." Kurz said as he headed for one of the doors. "Come on!"
27 March 2000, 06:05 hrs
Russian Territorial Waters, Near the Bering Strait
865th Interceptor Aviation Regiment (IAP), 11th Air Army
Colonel Sergei Amir flexed his gloved hand as he looked out over the morning light. Glancing behind and two his left he saw his wingman in her brand new MiG-31, its shining fuselage glinting in the morning light. Smirking slightly he glanced back down at the radar display between his legs and saw the active scans of the rest of the regiment, all forty odd aircraft with their radars scanning the skies. Taking a deep breath he switched the display over to infrared and leaned back.
"Switching to infrared." He stated blandly. As if this will actually work. It was strange focusing on the rarely used infrared scanner, the Americans didn't even bother fitting one on most of their craft instead relying on sensors in the missiles themselves.
"Lead, contact my nose… sixty kilometers." His wingman stated, her pitch rising in astonishment.
Sergei felt his eyes go wide as he glanced down at his displays. "Confirmed!"
27 March 2000, 05:13 hrs.
Merida Island, South Pacific
Tuatha de Danaan-class Submarine Carrier Tuatha de Danaan (TDD-1)
Kurz and Melissa ran across the pontoon bridge that connected the TDD-1 with the shore. As they reached the end the ship burst open and flames burned through the entirety of the vehicle reducing its insides to cinders while the hull cracked and burst along its seams before slowly settling out of sight in the water.
Smirking to himself Kurz clambered out of the canal and sighed. "I'm kind of disappointed."
"What? Why?" Mao asked.
"Where's the earth shattering kaboom?" He asked.
Mao shook her head and pulled the satellite phone from her pack. "Dao to White Gold, the toy box is busted."