Tenari was relieved when she finally reached the top of the goddess-forsaken cave and breached the water's surface. Her sisters and the turians surfaced at the same time all around her. She took a moment to survey the small dock she found herself in, and then her eyes locked on the large submersible watercraft sitting in its own berth at the center of the docks. While actual intel on the ship was spotty, her gut told her that this was the tub that had caused them so much trouble. It was certainly big enough to house the missiles that had somehow managed to shoot down some of the expedition's ships.
She made a mental note of the vessel. It was a secondary objective. The true purpose of this little underwater adventure was to steal any intelligence they could get their hands on (either in the form of knowledgeable prisoners, digital files, or even the primitive paper-based documents the humans still used) in order to make sure there weren't any other secret super fortresses lying in wait for them. Every member of the infiltration team had a list of high-value members of the so-called 'xenonauts' within the facility who had been selected for capture and interrogation. Once those objectives were secured (or after two hours, whichever came first) a detachment from the fleet would move in for a suborbital bombing run that would drop enough jury-rigged bunker busting disruptor bombs to rip this freezing little shit stain of an island in half.
The infiltrators found their way to the edge of the docks, and the asari boosted themselves up out of the water, then began helping their turian comrades up. Tenari looked around the facility. It was deserted.
Did they evacuate this part of the base when they noticed the diversionary attack from the assault team on the surface?
If that was the case, then it had been a very successful diversion indeed.
The team fanned out over the docks, securing the area. Unfortunately, that seemed to be exactly what the enemy was waiting for, as the cavern was quickly filled with the distinct explosive report of the humans' chemical guns. It was a good ambush: they'd waited until Tenari's team was spread out into smaller groups, and then attacked to isolate them. The shots were mostly coming from a balcony above the dockyards, which preceded the entrance into the main base. Tenari scanned the balcony, looking for the shooters. Beside her, a fellow commando leaned out of cover and opened fire on the balcony with her assault rifle. A shot rang out, loud enough to be distinct amongst the hundreds happening in the middle of the firefight, and Tenari felt the round impact the commando. The commando was ripped off of her feet by whatever projectile had just struck her and tossed into the harbor. A flood of violet-blue blood colored the water.
Tenari had already instinctively cowered behind her cover when she felt the shot's impact, which ended up saving her life as a chunk was ripped out of the concrete structure she hid behind, right were she had been standing a few moments before.
"Grenades!" she managed to croak the order out into her helmet's microphone.
The turian grenadiers did not need to be told twice, and they began firing their repeating grenade launchers at the balcony. The shots were silenced, either because the humans had been killed or because they'd been forced to take cover. Tenari signaled her sisters with a hand gesture to follow her.
"Keep the pressure on!" she ordered the grenadiers. There was no sense being shy about using the grenades, the inside of the base would likely be too close-quarters to use them anyway.
She did a biotic charge to close the distance to the balcony stairs, her sisters following her example. She stormed her way up the stairs, finding a gathering of wounded humans. None of them would be on the list, they were just grunts. She nodded to her sisters, and they began finishing off the fallen humans with a quick shot to the head. Tenari approached one of the humans on the ground, and saw the broken remains of an absurdly large rifle next to him. He was clad in the ridiculous analogue hardsuit that the humans had made from salvaged scrap in an attempt to ape their enemies' armor.
She felt herself crack a half-smile beneath her helmet.
"Nice shot." She said in her best English. She saw his eyes widen ever so slightly beneath his helmet in shock, then she ventilated his skull with her rifle.
Commander Miller gripped his armrest in anger as he watched the aliens casually murder his troops. It was supposed to have been a delaying action, with his xenonauts making a fighting retreat through the base. He had not anticipated the witches being capable of closing the distance so rapidly. It was tempting to panic, but almost thirty years of discipline won out, and he forced himself to take a calming breath and think. If he played his cards right, this could be flipped from a war-ending disaster into the turning point they'd all been hoping and praying for.
"All personnel with the exception of the security teams are to make a level one evacuation." He ordered, getting up from his seat. "Security teams are to fight to delay only, direct combat is to be avoided wherever possible."
He walked over to a nearby emergency closet, pulling out his key ring and opening it. He produced an M16 from the closet, seating a magazine and releasing the bolt, which slammed home. As he donned one of the old school steel helmets and flak jackets held within, he turned to his officers.
"Combat teams are to form up on me."
Laura Kent was somewhat annoyed with the rising near-panic that had filled her upon learning there were infiltrators. Not because of the fear itself, but rather what - or more accurately, whom - it was directed towards. She frantically pressed the button to open the door, stepping through the instant it slid open and calling out in a frantic voice that reminded her way too much of her mother.
"Is everyone all right?"
Roland, the most rambunctious of the little tykes, ran up and hugged her around her legs like he (she struggled to think of any of the gravelly voiced little gremlins as female, despite the fact that they were technically neither) always did.
The voice was still obviously youthful, despite the inflection of the alien vocal cords.
"Laura!" Roland crowed happily. Their 'mother', Writcka, had perished shortly after their hatching from complications caused by the kill chip in his neck (evidently, it had never actually stopped trying to kill him, and his body could only out-regenerate its damage for so long), meaning that the hatchlings had no adult Vorcha to influence them. As such, they were perhaps not the best example of the average Vorcha, with their only role models being of an entirely different species.
Laura absently patted Roland's head, searching for signs of the other children. One by one, they turned their attention from what they were doing and moved to greet her. And once again, Laura was annoyed at the decidedly...motherly feeling of relief that washed over her. She might have accused Dr. Brown of being a sexist by assigning one of the handful of female researchers in his staff to "mind the children", as it were, but she had forfeited that right, because - against her better judgement - she had actually volunteered for the job. She felt like a stereotype, but she really couldn't help it when that idiot Aikawa had wanted to use them to give the Xenonauts child soldiers of their own.
Ugh...Men. ...Wait, did I really just scoff and say "men" unironically? Oh God, when did I become my mother? She looked down and saw Roland's vicious, alien, yet still very genuine and childish smile, and she couldn't help the obscenely powerful feeling of satisfaction that washed over her. Oh Christ, maybe mom was right. My biological clock must be ticking a lot louder than I thought.
While she couldn't deny that she had developed a certain...affinity for her subjects, her initial motivation was mostly just to prevent Aikawa from wasting a precious resource so he could live out his sick little revenge fantasies with the alien children. Even it weren't unethical, it was just wasteful. The xenonauts had no shortage of willing volunteers, but they had an absolute drought of knowledge about their enemies, and aliens in general. It would be far more beneficial to the xenonauts' research to study the aliens and their development, and to learn if they could be socialized into a human society. If they could be, then they may very well fight for their adoptive homeworld of their own freewill - and soldiers fighting for their home would be a lot more effective than mindless drones fighting because whatever vengefully sadistic brainwashing Aikawa cooked up was making them. At least, that's what she'd argued in her memo to Dr. Brown.
Apparently Dr. Brown had agreed with her, because he'd put her in charge of the operation and had even given her a small staff. One of those staff members, a guard by the name of Conner, stopped his game of catch with one of the children (or, at least, their best attempt at the game, given the size of the living area) and approached Laura. He was an older man with a kind face and a grandfatherly disposition that had made him an appealing prospect to Laura when she'd been digging through personnel files for staff. He'd settled into the role of the 'fun uncle' with little difficulty, and had been an invaluable source of data on the children's socialization.
"Laura! Any news?" He asked her.
"They're in the base, Conner. " She said, her voice low.
He grimaced. "We need to get them out of here."
Laura nodded. "The Commander's given a Level One evacuation order."
That meant to retreat deeper into the lower levels of the facility, rather than try and run for one of the facility's emergency exits. A reasonable order, considering that the enemy would likely just send in more shots from orbit if they saw the heat signatures of a stream of evacuating personnel. Laura walked over to the vorcha children, who were observing her and Conner curiously and whispering to each other. Upon seeing her approach, they immediately gave her their undivided attention. She smiled at that. Aside from their alarming tendency to amuse themselves by inflicting extreme physical violence on each other, the vorcha were overall much better behaved than the average human child, though considering that they would apparently be adults in only a few short weeks, that was perhaps unsurprising. She addressed them.
"Hello kids, we're being attacked by the bad aliens, so Conner and I are going to take you somewhere safe and we're going to stay there until the Commander says it's safe for us to leave. Does everyone understand?"
The children all nodded in comprehension, and Laura felt that familiar feeling of awe that she got whenever she witnessed these children - who had only been alive for an amount of time measured in weeks - comprehend such a (relatively) complex and context-heavy topic with ease. She'd likely only mentioned most of the concepts in that sentence in passing, and yet they had retained it perfectly. If human children absorbed information like a sponge, then vorcha children devoured information like an industrial vacuum. It was a rare day when she had to explain something to them more than once.
She smiled at them. "Alright, then everyone pick one of your toys to bring with and make a line at the door."
They scurried to comply, and she moved to stand by Conner near the door, where he was checking over his M16. Soon enough the vorcha children, toys in hand, made a line at the door. Laura moved to stand at the front of the line, Conner at the rear, and the small formation began to make its way down the hall. As they approached the elevator, the power suddenly went out and the red emergency lights came on. Laura swore under her breath. The emergency generators would power the base's mission-critical systems, but the elevators were not counted among those.
"Alright, we're going to have to head for the stairs. Follow me." She turned back around and the file of children followed after her down the corridor. Then she felt her heart leap into her throat as a trio of aliens rounded the corner ahead of her. She briefly registered one of them pointing at her and yelling something in its language before she stumbled back, and Conner bolted in front of them.
"RUN!" He screamed, as he opened up with his M16 at the aliens.
Laura, ears ringing from the rifle's deafening report, scrambled to her feet as best she could and rapidly coaxed the children into following her. She didn't see Conner die, but the silencing of his rifle after her and the children rounded the corner behind him made it clear that that was precisely what had happened. She scanned the area as she ran, desperate for anything that could save them. Then she spied it: a utility closet. The aliens would almost certainly look inside if they found no trace of their quarry...but if she led them away...
"Get inside and hide, quickly." She opened the closet and gestured inside. They all moved to obey, but Roland hesitated.
"What about you?" he asked her. Vorcha did not possess tear ducts, but if he were a human child he would doubtlessly be on the verge of crying.
"Don't worry, just stay put." Laura ordered, before shutting the door. It was going to be incredibly cramped, but they'd manage. She heard boots hitting metal as the aliens moved to pursue her. She jogged down the hall, looking over her shoulder. She wanted to lead them away, but they'd have to see her first if they were going to follow her. They rounded the corner, and one of them shouted something in its language as it spotted her. She bolted, and aliens sprinted after her. She was pushing forty and hadn't had a serious workout since college, so it wasn't much of a chase. Still, she succeeded in leading them away before they caught up to her. To her surprise, as she stared down the barrel of the guns they pointed at her, they didn't fire. Instead, one of the two (Conner had presumably killed the third) stomped forward and grabbed her name tag. Up close, it was clear that he was one was of the 'Commando' species. It made sense. They'd likely taken captives before (it was the most reasonable source of intelligence for this attack) so it wasn't inconceivable that they desired captives from this little outing as well.
The alien straightened and opened his holographic computer, searching through it. Cross-referencing her name to some kind of list? That was her best guess. He eventually stopped and looked at his partner, shaking his head.
Well shit. I guess I'm not on the list. Laura thought, slightly hysterically.
Her heart pounded in terror as they raised their weapons... and were interrupted by a dozen juvenile vorcha attacking their backs. For a few brief moments, Laura watched the carnage, and was reminded that - similar or not - the alien children she had stumbled into raising were very much not the same as human children. Human children didn't slash at weak points in armor with their razor sharp claws or try with some limited success to rip out their enemy's throat with their massive teeth. The alien soldiers were quickly dragged to the ground as the vorcha attacked them, and Laura snapped out of her trance of fascination and sprang into action. She lunged for one of the aliens' rifles, ripping it out of his desperate grip. She pressed the barrel close, bypassing the barrier of the alien's armor, and fired a burst into its neck. She stumbled over to the other alien and gave it the same treatment. The vorcha-...the children quickly calmed and looked up at her with apprehension. This confused her for a moment, before she remembered:
Oh, right. I told them to stay put. They're worried that they're in trouble.
The fact that they were more concerned about that than the violent killings they had just been a part of was a fairly telling example of vorcha psychology.
Vorcha children were better behaved than human ones, in her limited experience, but they still disobeyed from time to time. A fact that Laura was immensely grateful for at this moment. For a moment, they all caught their breath, and then she spoke to them.
"Thank you. For saving my life."
Most denizens of the galaxy would say that vorcha smiles weren't exactly a pretty sight. Were she aware of this, Laura would likely disagree, as in that moment they were the most beautiful things she'd ever seen.
Tenari nodded in satisfaction as the human guards retreated from what was obviously the command center of the facility, judging by the large number of laughably primitive computers and large digital displays with maps of the planet. She was unsurprised to see the humans retreat. In terms of how they fought, they reminded her of batarians in a lot of ways: Good soldiers, with an undercurrent of ruthless cunning that gave them an edge. But the moment things don't go according to plan they panic and lose all cohesion. It had happened during every raid she'd fought in during the campaign to eliminate their nuclear arsenal, and it was even happening here, against the so-called 'xenonauts' that were supposed to be the 'experts' in killing aliens.
Contrast them with us: almost everything has gone to shit on our end, and we're still soldiering on. Tenari thought wryly. The statement applied both to the invasion (which had gone tits up) and the mission at had (which had also gone tits up). The human's evacuation efforts had been far more extensive than anticipated. Her teams had done a sweep of the entire facility (with the exception of the top level, which would be handled by the assault team), and not a single VIP had been encountered. Only guards and low-ranking civilian staff, all of whom had retreated at the first sign of alien contact. It made sense. The bulk of their troops would be busy repelling the main assault from the batarian and krogan teams at the top level. The idea was for her own infiltration team to quickly seize what they could while the bulk of the enemy was distracted. It had worked, but the humans clearly had several escape tunnels or other means of egress. It was annoying that they only thing of significance she'd walk away with was the command center's computer data, but it was of little consequence. This entire island would be a crater in thirty minutes anyway.
Her team's asari tech interrupted her thoughts. "Ma'am, strangely enough, the system's still online. I was planning to just pull the drives and then we can bug out, but if you want me to try and crack it so you can look it over real quick, just say the word."
The beginnings of a thought wormed their way into Tenari's mind. "Why is it strange that it's online?"
The tech seemed a little surprised by the question, but answered. "Well, it would prevent us from accessing their systems, or at least slow us down - primitive computers like this can take hours to bring back online - and they had plenty of time to shut it down. So, it's just a little odd that they wouldn't take the thirty seconds necessary to kill its power, or hell even just put a few dozen rounds into it. If I was bugging out like them, that's what I'd do."
The thought was getting more coherent, and by extension more frightening. Tenari took a breath. "What reasons can you think of for them doing it?"
The tech shrugged. "Hard to say. Might be that they were still coordinating the evacuation from it and just didn't have the time. Or maybe they've got some vital processes they left running and are hoping that they'll finish running before we really cut into it. Or, well...no, that wouldn't make any sense."
At Tenari's unamused glare, the tech relented. "Well, it's possible that they didn't want to have to boot it back up. Like I said, ancient computing tech like this does not come back online in a timely manner. If they're anticipating using it again soon..."
The tech froze as she realized the implication. Tenari sprang into action. "Kill the system and pull the drives, we're getting the hell out of here!"
"This is Green Squad, we're being hit hard by human reinforcements, we need backup, now damn it!"
Tenari's blood went cold. The human reinforcements were supposed to be tied down fighting the assault team. It was possible that they had defeated the assault team (she wouldn't know, maintaining radio contact with them through the thick walls of the bunker was impossible) but the squad under attack was Green Squad. Positioned far away from any stairs or elevators that the reinforcements could conceivably come down from the top floor with...she uttered a string of Thessian swears as the realization struck.
These aren't reinforcements, they're a trap.
She briefly considered doing what the tech had suggested and putting a few dozen rounds into the computer systems, but thought better of it. She couldn't go back empty handed, not after taking so many casualties. She'd have to pull the drives, fight her way out, and pray that they had enough intel on them to justify her continuing to live. Besides, sabotage was pointless: it would all be rubble soon whether she won or lost. She drew breath to start giving orders, and promptly had the wind knocked out of her as a primitive jacketed lead bullet slammed into her back plate.
"Secure her for questioning!" Xenonauts Commander John "Jack" Miller gestured to the witch officer he had just dropped with his M16. The witches were the only known species of aliens that the Xenonauts had never taken prisoner. There was a chance, however slim, that they were not subject to the kill chips that the other races were subject to. There was only one way to find out.
As he raised his M16 and fired to cover one of his xenonauts as they made a rush to a new position, running and gunning with their MAF shotgun, a small part of Jack's mind was quietly berating himself for indulging in the ego trip that was him fighting on the front lines. The fact that Air Chief Green and Combat Chief Wilson had seen fit to join him in his stupidity had only added insult to injury. Technically, their participation meant that they were the only humans in existence who experienced combat in both the first and second alien invasions (The irony of the fact that this was because they were the only three survivors of that first combat was not lost on Jack). The novelty of this had quickly worn off, and it became hard to ignore that three of the most important officers in the organization (one of whom was an amputee!) were needlessly putting their lives at risk.
Of course, that didn't stop the three men from lethally dispatching the occupants of the control room with an efficiency that would make one think that their last combat action hadn't been over twenty years ago. The three men fell into an icy calm routine, with the Combat Chief dropping an enemy's shields with a spray of fire from his Beretta, after which the Air Chief would promptly dispatch the newly-unshielded target with a shot through the unarmored throat. All of which occurred under the three round bursts of covering fire from the Commander. While the officers might be internally berating themselves, their troops were totally floored by the display. The effect on morale that the three men were creating was quiet thanks to the xenonauts' discipline, but dramatic all the same. The enemy were at the gates, the last stronghold of the human race was under siege. Despair had been creeping into the hearts of the xenonauts. All had seemed lost. Then three of the most legendary members of the entire organization had picked up a weapon and joined the fray. They'd lead their xenonauts into the hidden access tunnels, setting up an ambush that had transformed the situation from the end of the world into a fight that they could win, in the minds of the xenonauts, at least.
Before long, the xenonauts did indeed win, with the invaders lying dead or surrendered at their feet. As they rounded up prisoners and collected equipment, A certain witch officer who had been on the receiving end of the commander's rifle, struggling to speak through the pain of her broken ribs, pleaded with the human officers in uncomfortably good English.
"Please, you don't understand. They're going to level this island, with munitions like you've never seen. You have to surrender, or we're all going to die!"
The rest of the command staff had made their way back to the command center. On the tactical display, they watched as the enemy contacts began retreating from the area.
"See! Do you fools think they're fleeing from you? They just don't want to get caught in the blast."
Dr. Brown nodded at the Commander. "Yes, it was admittedly a bit of pipe dream to imagine that they were pegging all their hopes on that initial kinetic bombardment. No doubt the signatures we're seeing in the planetary detection grid are the craft exiting de-orbiting."
The Commander nodded. "I'm inclined to agree, even without the input of our friend over there. I think now's as good a time as any for a field test, don't you, Doctor?
The doctor gave an approving smirk. "Yes, well, it wouldn't be a Xenonauts weapon system if the first test fire wasn't aimed at the enemy."
The witch was hysterical. "ARE YOU INSANE? Do you think of few of your nukes are going to stop a bombing run from three destroyers? I admit you got lucky the first couple of shots, and our own incompetence aided you, but their laser grid will knock those primitive little birds out of the sky. I am begging you to surrender, or we are going to die. I don't care how tough your little fortress is, a hundred disruptor bombs will rip it open like a damned aluminum can!"
The Commander rolled his eyes. "Good Lord. Are all your kind this dramatic, or are you just special like that?"
Struggling against her restraints, she bounced toward him frantically before she was restrained by the guards. "LISTEN TO ME YOU FUCKING SAVAGE! WE ARE DEAD IF YOU DON'T GROW A BRAIN RIGHT THIS FUCKING SECOND!"
Chief Wilson snapped at one of the guards. "Gag."
The guards obeyed, and soon the only sounds coming from the witch were some particularly sad whimpers and muffled pleas as she struggled against her restraints. Chief Green read over an incoming report and nodded.
"Yep, three contacts, larger than anything we've ever seen in-atmosphere. Looks like their was some truth buried in the ranting from our friend over there." He jabbed a thumb at the witch officer.
The Commander nodded at the base weapons officer. "Weapons free."
As the display screen for the new weapons system was shown on the big screen, Dr. Brown leaned forward and gazed at it intensely, muttering to himself.
"Ok David...here's your Goliath."
The three destroyers were League military surplus that had been 'lost' some time ago (Coincidentally, the Matron responsible for overseeing the boneyard they'd been stored in had received a substantial 'surprise inheritance' not long after, and then had promptly vanished without a trace) and spent the next one hundred and fifty years changing hands amongst various less-than-reputable actors dwelling beyond civilized space. Their most recent owners were an unsanctioned PMC with an untranslatable name that had a reputation for always getting the job done. Even (or especially) if the 'job' involved mass murder of civilians. The current CEO of that PMC, a heavily scarred Lysenthi by the name of Geleok who had a 'kill on sight' order placed on him by every major law enforcement agency in both sides civilized space, sat in his command chair aboard his flagship Razor and was feeling satisfied with the progress of the operation for the first time in months. They were finally going to destroy that obnoxious little commando group that had somehow managed to become the single biggest obstruction to the subjugation of the planet.
The biggest obstruction other than our own incompetence. Geleok thought glumly.
It was no secret that the operation had gone to complete shit. Frankly, if he wasn't under contract, Geleok would have just raided the planet for anything remotely valuable, kidnap a few hundred of the most attractive captives he could find (his kind had no real concept of such things but that was why a smart man kept asari on the payroll) for the slave markets and then head for the nearest free port. If he could go back in time and smack himself upside the head before taking on such a stupid contract, he would. Alas, the number he'd been offered was just too damned good for his past self to turn down. Which was why his destroyers were currently flying towards a primitive alien super bunker in a stacked formation like a bunch of strategic air bombers out of a period piece. When leadership had asked around among what passed for the fleets officers to see if anyone had any experience attacking static fortifications, Geleok had been quick to volunteer. He'd cracked his fair share of pirate moon bases and mines taken over by rebellious slaves in his time. The basic principle was very simple.
First a kinetic bombardment to crack any shielding (easier said than done, he'd had to sustain week-long bombardments on more than one occasion). Not a factor for the humans, so the bombardment was relatively light. Second, scrape together as many disruptor bombs as you can get your hands on. Third, get three ships (or one particularly large ship with three bombardments worth of payload) and stagger the bombardment into three parts. The first set of bombs displaces the sediment. The second set of bombs cracks open any metal reinforcement or other structural innards. The third set of bombs tears apart the inside of the base. Rinse and repeat until the threat is ended. Geleok doubted that a second bombing run would be necessary. The humans had made some genuinely impressive fortifications for their technology level, but their was only so much you could do with soil and stone and steel. It would crack like an egg.
"Heat signatures from the area around the enemy base, sir." Geleok's sensors officer called out to him.
Geleok nodded. "Their missile systems, no doubt. They may just be cover for an air attack, inform the air patrols."
It was unlikely that the humans had an aircraft that could fight a sustained combat this high up, but just in case they did the fleet had scrambled everything they had that could pass for a combat aircraft and set it to patrolling the skies (the less nimble craft were patrolling the seas, improvised depth charges at the ready).
"Unknown high-velocity contact just went past our starboard side! Distance estimated three hundred meters." The sensors officer called.
"Unknown contact?" Geleok asked incredulously. "Is it a plane or a missile, it can't be that hard to distinguish!"
"Unknown sir...second high-velocity contact just shot right past us, massive radio signature, has to be some kind of jamming device."
A missile for radio jamming? Geleok supposed it would make sense if the humans believed that he was reliant on radios and radar as they were, but he fortunately he was not.
"Blow that thing out of the sky when its in rang, and get secondary optical comms set up as soon as possible." He ordered. Not as reliable in an atmosphere as it would be in a vacuum, but with a formation this close it would suffice.
"Heat signatures flaring!" The comm officer barely had time to shout out the words before everything went to shit.
Air combat had a decidedly visceral aspect to it compared to the silent, detached horror space combat. The main contributor to that was the fact that sound carried, even this high up. Which meant that when the bottom ship in the formation, Triggerman, suddenly had its entire front section explode in a fireball, the crew heard it before the tactical computer could fully report it.
"What the hell was that?! Evasive maneuvers!" Geleok roared. This was not happening. The humans were not going to pull another victory out of their cloaca because they caught the fleet with its pants down again.
Geleok's tactical officer provided a frantic explanation as he reviewed the combat data. "Three projectiles. Two dropped Triggerman's shields, the third penetrated. Probable explosive payload on the third."
No shit. Geleok was not going to be added to the list of captains that had gotten duped by the fucking monkey planet. "Spread out, evasive maneuvering! I want every gun with an angle to be dropping iron on those heat signatures, now."
A stream of lighter-caliber kinetic fire went pouring into the heat signatures. With the two ships now level with each other, Geleok was now able to watch as three projectiles moving almost too fast for the naked eye to track, slammed into Omega Rat. Just like with Triggerman, its shields were dropped by the first two, and a fraction of a second later the third struck. This time it was a glancing blow, 'only' ripping off Omega Rat's starboard mass effect stabilizer wing and tearing a massive gash in its side. The ship began going down as central field generator struggled to compensate for the lost wing. She might be able to make a crash landing, but achieving orbit again with such a massive hole torn in your mass effect field was not going to be feasible. At least, not for such an old ship, and not with the crew having to reconfigure the field as the ship was actively going down.
"How the fuck are they targeting us?" Geleok asked of no one in particular.
"We just got lit up with a targeting laser! It's from above us!" The sensors officer shouted.
Well that answers my question. And explains why they went to the trouble of killing our intership communications with a jammer. In his last few seconds of life, Geleok was annoyed that he still didn't even know what was killing him. Then Razor was ripped in half by an explosion and he died amidst the flaming wreckage.
XENOPEDIA: 'David' Class Recoilless Planetary Defense Cannon
Commander, in my time as Chief Scientist of this organization, I've tried my best to stay optimistic about our situation, despite its dire nature. Ive always firmly believed that this war is winnable, even in our darkest hour, but the greatest obstacle to that belief becoming reality has been our enemy's total control of the orbit of our planet. Major strategic action is just not possible when the enemy can bomb us into rubble at their leisure. To that end, as you are well aware, we have developed a high-level three phase strategic plan to end this war. The first phase was to secure our civilization. To that end we used our enemy's technology to develop a missile powerful enough to allow us to strike back. While the Hou-Yi missile system has enabled us to deter further apocalyptic-level devastation of our cities, we simply cannot build enough of those missiles within a reasonable time frame for them to serve as anything more than a deterrent weapon. It allows us to survive, but for us to truly win, we must be able to not just deter, but actively defend ourselves from alien aggression. We must advance to phase two: securing our skies. To that end, the 'David' series of cannons are our best bet.
To meet the goals of phase two, we required a weapon that possessed both the range and potency to actually reach and kill our enemies, while also somehow being inexpensive enough to mass-produce. Three serious options were considered. Surface-based laser batteries at one point might have been conceivable, but the devastation of our industry during the annihilation of our cities has rendered manufacturing those with any kind of scale a logistical impossibility. That left missiles and cannons. While conventional versions of these weapons would have extreme difficulty hitting targets at the altitudes we're aiming at, with the assistance of the mass effect this becomes significantly easier. While there are pros and cons to both options, we ultimately, decided to pursue both at the same time.
Hou-Yi was the first fruit borne of this system. An unsurprising result, considering that upgrading an existing (sub)orbit-capable missile system is decidedly easier compared to designing an entirely new style of weapon from scratch. Fortunately, the other half of the project has also borne fruit. Suitably for a weapon that slings a stone (of sorts) at a vastly superior foe, we've dubbed it 'David'. The primary advantage of the David class as a weapons system comparison to Hou-Yi is its lower overall cost and its comparative versatility. This is achieved through its relatively simple design.
The cannon itself is little more than a metal tube with a mass effect field generator. Inside this tube, a wide variety of munitions with a wide variety of purposes can be loaded as the situation demands. Being a recoilless weapon, the munitions are carefully measured and designed to provide an equal amount of force in both directions, thus causing the forces to cancel each other out and make the cannon 'recoilless'. The base model of cannon is roughly comparable to a 16 in naval cannon in the broadest terms. Normally, scaling a recoilless rifle up to this high of a caliber is a waste of effort, as the benefits of a recoilless firing mechanism at such a large size are outweighed by the losses in power compared to a conventional cannon. However, as is often the case, once the mass effect gets involved, the situation changes.
In our testing, we explored adding mass effect technology to both conventional and recoilless artillery cannons of various sizes. In our testing, we determined that a mass-accelerated recoilless rifle - using a chemical back blast to compensate for recoil - had a greater net velocity compared to a mass-accelerated conventional cannon utilizing a mass effect assisted mechanical recoil compensation system. A mass-accelerated cannon utilizing an unassisted mechanical recoil system was still the most powerful overall. However, at the velocity and caliber we're proposing, the level of in-place infrastructure and setup required make such a system impractical. The goal is to create a weapon that can be built in large numbers and used by almost anyone, almost anywhere. To this end, a recoilless rifle, with its significantly less resource-intensive setup requirements (we've even successfully mounted one on a submarine) is the preferred choice. The endgame is to have David cannons scattered over every continent, all linked to our global targeting network.
The back blast is still, as one can imagine for a cannon powerful enough to hit targets in orbit, substantial. On some of the most powerful rounds, we've seen it dig an entire trench in a single shot. It is strongly advised that it be kept away from populated areas. As for what rounds are loaded, we're coming up with more all the time, so it is easier to name categories.
'Dumb'
These are rounds that have no on-board guidance, mass effect field generator, or maneuvering capability of any kind. The obvious advantages are cost:hunks of metal and explosives can be pumped out by the millions if need be, an impressive feat compared to the number of sophisticated computer guided rounds that could feasibly be built. The main differences between rounds in this category are the mass of the projectile and the amount of propellant launching it. The lack of on-board mass effect fields means that the projectiles generally can't reach the incredible velocities of other kinds of rounds, and as such are best used for close range engagements where reaction time is less of a factor, like suborbital ranges and very low orbit, or as a 'support' round in conjunction with other, higher-velocity rounds. The exception to this are our experimental alien materials round, which utilize the lower overall mass of the alien materials to achieve a higher velocity for the same amount of propellant. This can conceivably reach medium-to-high orbit. Once we fell more of our enemy's ships we will have access to more of their materials, and as such it is quite conceivable that this will be our primary mass attack round for high-orbital targets.
'Smart'
Smart rounds are rounds that possess something on-board other than simple explosives or proximity sensors. On the cheapest end of the spectrum there are simple guided shells, which utilize limited guidance computers and maneuvering thrusters to make minor adjustments to its trajectory. On the most expensive side of the spectrum, there are laser-guided smart bombs that use on-board mass effect fields and booster jets to increase their velocity even further, making them by far the most potent and long-range weapon in our arsenal. The downside is, of course, cost. For the cost of one of the latter rounds, we could fire thousands of dumb rounds. Of course, when one considers the benefits of salvaging fallen alien star ships, the benefits can and do easily outweigh the costs.
'Utility'
Utility rounds are rounds whose purpose is not to kill the enemy, but rather to disrupt them, or support their allies. These range from things as basic as chaff rounds that explode in a cloud of sensor-disruptive materials, to jamming rounds that disrupt enemy communications, to sophisticated sensor rounds that serve as a temporary targeting satellite for other munitions.
All of these rounds are best used in conjunction with each other, which is why every David battery is intended to carry more than one cannon. Our robotic auto-loader system is quick, but not quick enough for the kind of timing we'll need to defeat the sophisticated defenses of our enemies. Ultimately, this is a massive leap forward in our ability to actually fight the enemy, and the concealed guns we are setting up at our base will be the first of many.