Sixteen
Castle Grayskull
Eternia
19 September 2017
Colonel Markson stepped through the portal into the small clearing a hundred yards from the forest edge. Extra ammunition, weapons even a few replacement pieces of body armor lay scattered about in neat stacks, separated by type. Gunnery Sergeant Apone and two privates were waiting. The privates relaxed when their leader appeared along with the royal family, then tensed when Skeletor and Evil-lyn walked through.
Markson waved the privates away. "We all set?" he asked Apone.
Apone nodded. Sweat beaded his forehead. Waiting in the forest for the enemy to arrive was taxing. It was late summer in this part of Eternia, and the forest grew hot from the blazing sun overhead. The shade among the tress offered some relief from direct sunlight, but the humidity was something else, since there had been a few rainstorms passing through in the past week. Each member of the assault force was equipped with waterskins, courtesy of the Sorceress, but they provided only a small measure of relief. Everyone was chaffing to get the coming battle finished. And that irritation was very dangerous; people could get careless at a point when they could least afford to. That is when people died.
So far, Colonel Markson's group had been lucky. But luck tends to run out eventually.
"As set as we can be," Apone answered grimly. He explained the disposition of forces and the layout in detail. Markson approved of the use of armor plate from the disabled Horde vehicles left from the previous battle near the castle months ago, plates now leaning against the twisted trees forty feet back from the tree line. Others had been driven into the ground thanks, to Cobretti and War Wing in his combat mode. Several points with extra armor offered a strategic view of the stone ramp and arches set at the bottomless chasm surrounding the castle. Those were points where the men with the grenade launchers would have a clear field of fire, while having robust cover to dive behind. Corporal Frost had his own reinforced sweat lodge in the ravine east of the castle, with a clean sightline down the forty-meter span between the chasm edge and the forest. Most of the plates had been moved to the location and driven into the ground at angles to help deflect any energy blasts hurled his way. Whether or not the Horde armor would hold up remained to be seen.
Colonel Markson reviewed the previous firefight in his head. He suspected the big machine had not fired their cannons on full power because of the close confines of Snake Mountain's corridors. Even at lower setting, those weapons were deadly. Out here in the open the enemy would be free unleash their full potential.
Horde armor may not hold up for long. It would not need to if they could get a handle on the vulnerable points to exploit taking those goliaths down.
Apone deployed the returned troops to the assigned places. Skeletor and Evil-lyn wandered off to pick out a spot to watch the show.
King Randor gestured to the rifle slung over the colonel's shoulder. "Do you have any spare rifles?"
Of course there were. A dozen lay in foam slots in a case, the cover sitting ajar on top.
"One more rifle on the field won't make a difference at this point," Markson said.
"No, but one more will make a difference in protecting my family." The prince opened his mouth to add his request, but the king waved him silent. "I am a quick study."
The colonel considered the request. Those smaller drones Anyssa called a Servator moved fast enough to make flanking maneuvers despite their bulky outer appearance. Having someone watching their backs while the colonel and his troops concentrated on the main threat could be useful.
"All right. Apone, familiarize him with a rifle. Be quick. Company will be here any minute," Markson said. He returned the king's grateful nod and strode off to look over the defenses while he still had time.
Apone pulled a rifle from the case, snapped up a magazine from the one next to it and slapped it into the magazine well. The pair faced south, away from the defense line. Apone called over the comms, notifying every one of the coming weapons fire from a quick training session.
Randor proved to be every bit of the quick study he claimed. After a few minutes of dry runs unloading, reloading, and aiming, it was time to get a feel for the kick. It was not much since the weapon was designed to absorb most of the recoil, but the rifle did kick some.
Apone called out the firing line hot. Randor squeezed off short bursts, familiarizing himself with the aiming. A tree just past the line served as an ideal target. Randor shot off half the mag in short bursts coupled with one lone one. Afterward, he dropped out the partially spend mag, took the full one Apone handed him and slapped it into the magazine well.
"What's this?" Randor asked, fingering the pump slide of the grenade launcher.
"That's the grenade launcher. Probably don't want to mess with that right now," the Gunny replied.
Randor pegged the soldier with a penetrating look. "Son, when you were barely out of diapers I was fighting in some major battles on this planet. The worst is called the Great Unrest. Rumor has it the Sorceress was also involved in it, though no one can, or will, confirm that. You started this with your commander's blessing. Show me everything. I'm quite sure I can handle myself."
Apone matched stares with the king pound for pound. A soldier who has been under fire can always spot another who has had similar experience. The Gunny suddenly broke out in big grin and barked out a laugh. "I like you, Your Majesty. You're trouble."
After a quick rundown on the grenade launcher, how to aim and fire it, the pair joined Colonel Markson at the observation point, a little over fifty meters away from the bridge to the castle. Queen Marlena and the children had picked out a spot where they would not be in the way, but still able to observe the coming battle. Skeletor and Evil-lyn had staked out a spot on the firing line. King Randor joined the colonel.
All the soldiers were on the lookout for the enemy they knew was approaching from the west. The enemy was not in sight, but the Sorceress was tracking their progress with one of her magic mirrors. If anyone were to spot the machines, it would be Corporal Frost since he had the most direct line of sight.
Adrian and War Wing were trying to produce another ballistic weapon to use in the shoulder-mounted rocket launcher. Even though he had been monitoring the battle inside Snake Mountain, he could only guess at the durability of the enemy machines' armor. They had some inferences about the Servator armor, based on Anyssa's responses to questions about what it took for her and Private Jacobs to destroy them. The joints were vulnerable on the larger ones the Val-kyrie princess was tentatively calling a Shadowdemon. His first priority would be to find out just how vulnerable and how precise their fire had to be.
Explosives could not be focused enough, even using shaped charges. They studied purely ballistic rounds, like the ones used in the war machine's rocket pods to disable Hordak's mammoth tank. The downside was they were point and shoot weapons that were still too big for Adrian's purpose.
Surprisingly, Teela emerged from her shell to offer up a suggestion. "Do you have any weapons or grenades that pack some sort of rod or needle?"
"You're talking about a flechette round," Adrian said, impressed. Such weapons come in different varieties.
"I believe there is a schematic for such a weapon in the database," Wing replied. "A shaped charge that disperses flechette shafts would work. I'll probably have to adjust the charge on the fly."
"Set each weapon with a different charge intensity. Use the one that works the best when reloading," Adrian said. "We won't have many opportunities in order to optimize it. We'll fire off as many are we can, record the results and give them to Gabe later."
"If we survive the battle," the AI reminded him.
"I intend to live forever, or die trying."
"Why don't we leave dying off the agenda altogether?" Sorceress proposed.
Clomping around in the suit Adrian shot back, "You just want to suck the joy out of everything."
"I prefer looking at it as ensuring you live to a ripe old age."
"And I would hate to have to break in a new operator when I'm finally making progress with you," Wing added.
"That wine rack is looking better all the time," Adrian reminded the AI.
Wing's voice had the tone of an absent shrug. "And wait another thousand years or so for a new AI to evolve? Even if you lived that long I don't think you can wait."
Teela found the conversations this man, Adrian Cobretti, and her mother were having with the AIs of the battlesuits disconcerting. One would think the pair was talking to themselves. The Sorceress explained that was exactly what people thought before the Val-kyrie overhaul of all six suits gave them the necessary comm systems to vocalize their thoughts. Before that, the AIs could project themselves only to their respective operators using visual forms of their previous operators. Unfortunately, their current operators were the only ones who could see, hear, and interact with them. Teela also found out that when she had inadvertently insulted Falcon earlier, the AI could have responded directly to her, but chose to let her mother explain the error instead.
All frivolity ended when Frost reported, "I have enemies on the horizon. Approximately five thousand meters and closing."
Teela, Adrian and the Sorceress returned their attention to the giant screen. The view of the countryside zoomed in on the mass of black shapes slowly marching on the castle.
"What do you see?" Markson asked brusquely.
Adrian keyed his comm. "They are lined up in four columns. The big ones are in the center columns with the Servators flanking. The big ones number twenty-four. Servator numbers at least twice that."
"It appears the transports landed several kilometers distant," Sorceress added.
"Damn, they're moving fast," someone muttered.
"Machines don't have to take rest breaks," Apone answered. "Cut the chatter and keep your eyes open."
"Showtime," Adrian said to the Sorceress.
She nodded, walked over to Falcon, and entered the suit once more. Once closed up, the battlesuit emitted a blinding white light for an instant. When the glow faded, the Sorceress stood in place of the fifteen-foot battlesuit with the combat form power armor retracting into the six-point medallion hanging from a heavy silver chain. The black jumpsuit with gray across the shoulders and patches denoting Guardian command and the battlesuit morphed into the bird costume her companions knew so well.
War Wing reduced himself down to an identical medallion in order for Adrian to move quickly.
"You sure you can hold that jawbridge closed?" Adrian asked the Sorceress.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," she replied. Instead of being annoyed by the question, the Sorceress had a bemused expression on her face. "With Falcon, I could keep it closed longer than they have power to waste trying to bring it down."
"Can you at least make it look good?" the colonel inquired.
Sorceress frowned. "You mean like one of Cobra's famous entrances? Or make my own dramatic one?"
"No one can duplicate me," Adrian scoffed, dashing for the grand staircase and taking the stairs two and three at a time. Turning right at the top, he headed for the stairwell in the east tower. A third of the way up it branched to the right where the tunnel crossed the face of the skull. He stopped at the opening that formed the nose. The eyes were higher up out of reach, but the nose offered a splendid view looking down on the gap between castle and bridge. "However, I'm looking forward seeing what you can do. Be daring."
"Be bold," Frost added.
"Don't lose you head," Apone growled. "You're supposed to the sensible one of the group."
Cupping his hand over the helmet mic, Markson replied with a crooked smirk, "Cobra's right. You are a buzzkill sometimes. I see where the Sorceress gets it."
Apone scowled to hide a grin.
Markson ordered everyone under cover and to stay off the comms. A rhythmic thumping gradually grew louder as the machine army closed in on their objective, the pounding felt as much as heard. Several soldiers wondered what was worse, the assault on the ears or the pounding in their chests.
The columns closest to the bottomless moat stopped, front rank even with the bridge. The other two ranks continued marching until the last rank drew even with the first. As one, the robots turned and faced the castle, smooth and crisp like any formation of soldiers trained on any planet.
Pairs of what the hidden defenders were, for the moment, calling Shadowdemons marched up the bridge alongside accompanying Servators. Because of their size, the demons could only stomp two abreast. Even with that limitation, they were still a formidable sight.
Adrian felt an unreasoning pang of dread settle in his gut. It wasn't born of seeing the machines up close as much as effects stemming from inherited memories of battles fought over ten centuries ago. These were the boogeymen whispered about on countless worlds. Historical records stated the Val-kyrie and their allies could win every battle against those machines, sometimes at great sacrifice, but they could find no way to win the war because Horde Prime had the machine army built in such numbers so quickly that losses were replaced in no time.
Servators prepared grappling hooks and stout cables. Cannon arms lowered so the grapples and attached cables could be placed inside. Four demons took aim, adjusted the discharge appropriately, and fired. Four whumps announced the launching of hooks at the jawbridge; Adrian heard the clatter of metal hooks catching on the iron crossbar. Servators handed the cables off to the demons and stepped to the rear to prepare two more cables.
Taloned hands tensioned the cables and gradually pulled on them with every bit of power built into the Shadowdemon frames. The jawbridge creaked and groaned ominously. While the materials used in the bridge were simple wood and iron, the powers stored within had strengthened the castle's structure beyond what was possible at the time King Grayskull had first constructed it. Four demons should have been more than enough to pull the jawbridge down, but it appeared to be stuck.
At the moment the bridge started to move, the Sorceress raised her hands and fired beams of white magical energy at the jawbridge. With Falcon's augmentation, she easily kept the bridge firmly closed. Remembering a past incident where Skeletor used his powerful abilities to pull the bridge down despite her best efforts, Sorceress allowed to bridge to remain up for that exact length of time. Coordinating with what Adrian was seeing, Sorceress let the bridge gradually slip lower.
A pair of demons behind the front four fired two more grapples at open space left at the top lip of the jawbridge. Together, all six machines used their combined might to finally pull the barrier down. When it fell past the tipping point, the back two machines dislodged their grapples with a flick of the connecting cables, while the other four dropped their cables into the abyss. The impact of the bridge slamming down on the end of the stone bridge popped the remaining grapples loose where they took the long plunge into the moat.
Standing just outside of the pulsing rings of energy, the Sorceress of Grayskull, resplendent in her falcon costume, faced the enemy determined to enter the castle and plunder its secrets.
The first rank of machines stepped onto the jawbridge and got no further. The Sorceress made scooping motions with her hands. Two machines suddenly lifted off the bridge by an unseen force. Sorceress snapped her palms to within six inches of each other. In response, the towering black robots slammed together face-first. While the impact did not have enough force to do more than cosmetic damage to their armored exteriors, Newton's Third Law of Motion did significant damage to the more delicate electronics within.
Snapping her palms outward sent the dying robots hurtling back across the bridge as if they had been shot from an enormous cannon. Two big machines plunged over the sides into the moat. Two were saved by the arch closest to the castle. The flying paperweights toppled two more machines standing in the skirmish line. They wasted no time in flinging aside the dead weight and clambered back to their armored feet.
Shoving themselves off the stone arch, the next walking terrors in line marched toward the castle's lone defender. Once more, the Sorceress scooped them up using magic. This time, she spread her hands out past shoulder width. The floating death machines drifted out over the moat, where anyone watching expected the thrashing robots to take the long drop. Instead, she showed a glimmer of just how strong her connection was to the magical power inherent in all life-bearing worlds.
Sorceress snapped her hands closed, crushing the machines into useless balls of armor, metal alloys and broken electronics. Once again, she snapped her hands palms out, only this time applying greater force to the projectiles. Two towering robots standing several lengths to either side of the bridge took the blows square in their chest plates. Armor cracked like ceramic plates. Vital innards were devastated by the kinetic transfer of power. The targeted robots skidded backwards ten feet despite bracing for the impact. Dying robots toppled onto their backs, finishing the job the frontal assault started. Both resembled a bizarre sculpture of war machines meeting an unfortunate end.
As the dust settled from the attack, the invading force did something they had yet to do once battle was joined: they backed away. Clearly, the castle's defender was a force to reckon with and the machines had to come up with another strategy. Brute force was not going to work. In under sixty seconds, eight Shadowdemons were eliminated by one human female using a force their machine minds were not programmed to understand.
Sorceress used the lull in the close-quarters battle for a wardrobe change. She erected a shield dome over the mouth of the skull face just in time to absorb the barrage of energy bolts raining down upon it from the other machines with a direct line of sight and readied herself for round two. The falcon costume glowed white for a moment, resolving in the black jumpsuit with gray across the shoulders, command patch on the left shoulder, and specific battlesuit patch on the right. Falcon, still the stealth mode medallion, hung from a silver chain, and lay nestled against her operator's bosom. Sorceress tapped the medallion, initiating the miraculous metamorphosis.
At the touch, pieces or internal structure, armor plates, actuators, servos and all the other pieces that made up the combat form power armor began spreading across the length and breadth of the woman's body like a technological growth.
Teela stared dumbfounded from behind the veil of pulsing energy rings. In the past, her mother's connection to the power inside the castle seemed to be only as powerful as needed in any given situation. With her new dual role as caretaker of the Castle Grayskull and one of the revived Guardians, her mother's power was now on a level no one had ever seen before. Witnessing the Sorceress' newfound strength was simultaneously pleasing, and frightening.
Sorceress stepped forward as the technology encapsulated her legs and feet. A helmet resembling the falcon headdress assembled around her head. Eye slits blazed with white light. Ornamental angled red bands snapped down along the sides, while an array of metal feathers fanned out from the round plates on the sides.
A white rod rose up from along the spine. Sorceress reached back to pluck it from the storage clip. The rod expanded into a long shaft. The ends thickened into an inverted cone caped with spheres. A rectangular plate emerged from the sphere and fanned out into the shape of a falcon with wings spread. The tips of the rounded wings curved back, almost touching the bird's head. It was the dual cap version of the magic staff she had used from time to time in the past. Only this one was designed as a magic-infused fighting staff with offset caps.
Twirling the staff, Guardian Falcon turned her body to the right to present a slim profile to the enemy, snapping the staff down in a two-handed grip. Red feathers on the helmet rippled in anticipation.
The barrage of energy bolts ceased. Sorceress dropped the shield dome and prepared for the next wave.
The Servators regrouped, analyzed the armor decorated in the same colors as the Sorceress' bird costume, decided they could still accomplish the mission, and moved in for the kill. Because of the close confines of the corridors inside Snake Mountain, the machines had had to move slowly and carefully. Out here in the open, they could ramp up their servos to maximum. A wave of metal monsters rushed in at the lone Guardian, figuring they would overwhelm her by sheer force of numbers.
They had no idea with what they were dealing.
A crack of thunder reverberated across the mote. Sparks cascaded from the horizontal slice through the first machine's chest plate. Etherium reinforced by magic cut through the thin, tough armor like tissue paper. Falcon maintained momentum by spinning to the left, slamming the flat face of the other staff cap into the next machine in line. Both took a tumble off the bridge.
Falcon spun the dual-capped staff in a blur of motion: slicing, stabbing, and the occasional overhead strike to the head sent enemy robots tumbling over both sides of the bridge in metal wave. One dodged past the rampaging Guardian, turned, and darted back in an attempt to take Falcon from behind.
The Servators had evaluated the fight and concluded, erroneously, that this was just a fragile flesh creature in an impressively powerful suit of power armor. Falcon divided her attention between helping her operator cleave her way through the tidal wave of onrushing robots, anything that got by them, and the line of hulking brutes just itching to get their claws on the obstacle keeping them out of the castle.
Thinking it had the advantage, the Servator sprinted up from behind. Falcon showed the view behind in a small window on the heads-up display. The AI timed the latest strike perfectly. Two Servators attempted to make a machine sandwich with a Guardian filling. Instead of taking the seemingly unsuspecting Guardian from behind, the Servator's momentum did all the work of ramming itself into the vertical staff cap while the other took to the horizontal cap to the abdomen. A blast of magical energy channeled through the staff blew them up like overinflated balloons.
Breathing heavily, beads of sweat trickling down the sides of her face, Sorceress took deep breaths in an effort to slow the heart hammering away in her breast. Sparing matches with Adrian were usually intense, but nothing compared to what she just battled through.
Another interesting thing took place. The remaining robots did something legends said they never did in an engagement; they backed off for a second time. Taking stock of the situation beyond the bridge, Sorceress noted another formation of Servators had marched in from the west. Obviously, reinforcements in case the original force of twenty-four Servators was decimated. Which Falcon and the Sorceress had just effectively accomplished.
Stepping back, Sorceress retracted one cap and compressed the staff down to the size of a battle axe. A projector built into the left gauntlet flared to life. A semi-transparent shield of concentric rings with a wireframe of Zoar in flight spread across the center took shape. Sorceress gave the staff a twist in her right hand and readied herself for round three.
Falcon had her sensors out scanning the enemy for any signs of an impending attack. The AI and Adrian spotted one of the towering machines to the east adjust the aim of its cannon. The glow of a priming charge lit the barrel.
"On your left!" Adrian warned urgently. "Look-" The enemy fired a full-power energy bolt at Falcon. A blinding flare of light and shockwaves from a thunderous explosion drove Adrian from nose of the skull face. "Out," Adrian finished unnecessarily.
The detonating bolt was close enough that sufficient energy reached Falcon, blowing her off her feet. Falcon crashed to the ground and skidded backward into the castle. The Guardian came to a screeching halt at Teela's feet. Because of the close confines of the entrance, Teela was forced to clamp her hands over her ears to ward of the noise of tortured Etherium scudding across flagstones. Teela took her hands away from her ears, shook her head to clear the ringing, and stooped down to inspect Falcon. She jumped when the faceplate popped out and slid up. Adrian's voice issued faintly over the suit's comm.
"Falcon. Sorceress. Someone answer me," Adrian demanded, concern clearly heard in his voice.
Sorceress stirred, mumbled, finally answered an anxious Adrian Cobretti. "I'm here," she answered with a groan. Servos whined when she turned her head to briefly take in the sparklers sputtering from the damaged shield emitter.
"I'm here, too," the AI grumbled. "Thanks for not asking."
"Actually, he did," Teela informed the AI. She lifted, with groaning effort, her mother's right arm and ducked under it. Somehow, the woman had held on to the compact falcon staff.
"Are you all right?" Adrian asked, somewhat calmer.
Amid the whine of servos and gears, Sorceress responded, "Other than my left arm being numb from the shoulder down, yes."
"If I hadn't spotted that robot priming to fire, we wouldn't have an arm to speak of," Falcon added, morosely. "I fired a directed energy bolt through the shield emitter to detonate that plasma bolt before it could strike," the AI added before Adrian could ask.
Wing confirmed the composition of the enemy cannon blasts. "In our reduced size, those blasts at full power can do serious damage."
Teela helped get the Sorceress back on her feet. "I need you to hold them off so we can get reconfigured to battle mode," Sorceress said.
Adrian grew mournful. "Man, and I was enjoying the floor show."
Coughing, Sorceress warned him, "Don't be a jerk. Next man up, remember?"
Sighing, Adrian climbed back into the nose. "Hope you enjoy the show!"
Teela looked out the mouth when she caught something black moving in her peripheral vision. What she saw send a shiver down her spine.
Skeletor grudgingly respected the discipline of Colonel Markson's troops. No one did more than flinch at the sight of the columns of deadly machines marching on Castle Grayskull. Everyone kept out of sight while the enemy formed a siege formation across the ramp that was the only entrance to the castle.
The larger machines put on a display of power when they fired the grappling hooks at the jawbridge crossbar, took up the cables and eventually pulled the bridge down despite the Sorceress' best efforts to keep it closed.
Skeletor noted that the bridge stayed up longer than when he pulled it down once in one of many failed attempts to take the castle for himself. Now, the castle's guardian stood alone in the face of a lethal army of battle robots.
"The Sorceress stands alone," Skeletor commented.
"She's not alone," Markson replied, gripping his pulse rifle a little tighter.
Everyone flinched when the Sorceress put on a display of power the likes of which the Eternian natives had never seen her do in the past. Flinging two robots back across the bridge and ramp as if she were taking a turn in a bizarre bowling alley was one thing. Crushing two more into huge balls of scrap was something else. Skeletor note that his Earth companions did not bat an eye when she crushed two giant robots in a frightening display of magical ability. Then played a second frame of bowling by hurling the lumpy metal balls out across the mote straight into two more cannon-wielding robots. The impacts crackled across the landscape, compounded by the struck machines toppling over and skidding across the rocky ground.
Distracted by the dust clouds settling about the felled enemy death machines, Skeletor almost missed the Sorceress erecting a temporary shield to ward off the barrage of cannon fire while changing clothes. He took note of the brief change from bird costume to black and gray jumpsuit, followed by the amazing flood of technology spreading across her body when she touched the medallion hanging around her neck. Where did that come from? he thought. Could have decorated it better than her costume colors. How droll.
Watching the Sorceress proceed to take the rush of Servators apart made Skeletor forget his fashion sense critique. Evil-lyn, on the other hand, stared with open shock and even a bit of envy at the magical power and ability on display. Even blasting two Servators apart at once when one tried to take her from behind was a move the witch never would have considered making.
It all came to a predictable crashing end when the Servators backed off, the Sorceress reconfigured the staff and activated the energy shield on the left arm and got blasted back into the castle.
When the reverberations from the explosive force of the detonated plasma bolt finally died away, Skeletor mused, "Well, that was entertaining. Now the castle is unguarded."
"And I told you before, the Sorceress is not alone," the colonel reminded him. "Look in the nose."
"Wait, the nose?" Skeletor asked, confused.
"The castle," Markson emphasized, shaking his head.
For long moments, nothing occurred. Skeletor grew skeptical of the colonel's insistence that the Sorceress was not alone in the castle. He did not count Teela because she did not possess any useful skills to fight this enemy.
Suddenly, a black spiderlike shape exploded from the nose of the skull face, easily crossing the distance to the first arch. Everyone within fifteen feet heard Evil-lyn's terrified gasp. The last time she saw that creature, it had been crouching on a support beam above her in Palace Eternia's throne room several months ago. She still felt the impact of the thing's gooey saliva splattering her right shoulder.
Adrian Cobretti had just joined the battle.
The Xenomorph launched itself effortlessly from the nose of the castle's face, landing on the first arch past the moat and immediately leaping to the second arch. It barely touched the second arch before launching itself straight into the face of the nearest black machine. The target flailed about and stumbled not from the impact, but more from the suddenness of the attack. None of the robots had been able to calculate where the creature was headed. Now that they knew, they could not get a clean shot at it without damaging or destroying one of their own. The machines had no feelings about taking out one of their own. It was simply a matter of programming directives. Until the threat level entered into the required category, the assaulted Shadowdemon was on its own.
Skeletor issued a derisive snort. "Uncoordinated. Haphazard. Totally random."
"Wrong," King Randor corrected. "It looks chaotic, but that's far from the case."
Colonel Markson spoke to all his troops. "Everyone mark those locations. He's showing us the way."
A chorus of affirmatives answered back.
"You got a fix on that machine, Frost?" Apone growled, taking aim with his pulse rifle.
Hidden in the sniper blind east of the castle, Frost stared through the scope of his railgun looking for an opening. "Soon as Cobra stops playing with his food, I own it."
The Xenomorph continued to snap its inner jaw into vulnerable points. Long, tapering fingers reached into seams between armor plates, grasped electrical conduits and ripped them apart. The dagger-like tip of the segmented tail stabbed into other points severing cables, damaging vital linkages, and causing serious damage.
The demon was in serious danger. It flailed about trying to either crush the creature in its right hand, or, failing that, throw its attacker off. Every time it got close to snaring the damn thing, the creature deftly darted away. The demon's movements grew more uncoordinated as the damage increased. Individually, the strikes amounted to no more than mosquito bites. As the tally grew, however, those bites caused serious damage. Sparks flew, compromised bearings and servos gradually ground themselves to pieces.
Whether it was carelessness or a calculated move, the Xenomorph finally took a hit. The creature flew across the battlefield over the heads of the Servator reinforcements taking up position near the ramp, and crashed to the ground, rolling away from the demons anchoring the west end of the formation.
With the field of view clear, Frost instantly fired several slugs into the dying machine. One zipped in through a tear in the neck to strike something explosive. Whatever he hit blew the head right off its shoulders, the head flipping through the air like a manhole cover blown from its mount. Another demon swiped at the projectile, slamming it down into the dirt. The new attack had stopped as soon as the head blew off -not enough time to zero in on where the new attack originated.
They did not have time to analyze the situation.
The Xenomorph rolled to its feet, morphed into a man, who was quickly encased in black and silver power armor. Weapons pods snapped up into position on the shoulders.
"Heads down, people," Adrian ordered.
War Wing picked out seven targets for the rocket launcher on the right shoulder, three demons and four Servators, locked targets and launched. Adrian set his right foot back, bracing for the release. Seven rockets ripple-fired from the launcher. The fabrication system kicked in automatically to replace the spent munitions.
The weapons sped downrange in moments. When the rocket reached the appropriate distance for maximum effect, the warheads exploded, spreading out payloads of flechette rods. The demons remained unaffected, as their armor was too thick for such small projectiles. The targeted Servators, however, took major damage from the deadly rods.
Adrian did not hang around to admire his handiwork. The AI would be recording the damage assessment, anyway. He took the best action available: making himself hard to hit.
The Servators revealed a capability they had not shown during the assault on Snake Mountain. Imbedded in the forearms were powerful blasters capable of killing most organic beings, but using the weapon put a further drain on the Servator's energy cell. During the attack on Snake Mountain, why deplete your own energy cell when the enemy conveniently has laser rifles in the hands of their own robot security force? Servators had appropriated weapons from Skeletor's troops to use against said troops. Those weapons had been discarded after the withdrawal from Snake Mountain. Those forces were also still enroute to Castle Grayskull, so the machines were dependent upon everything they brought with them.
Hands retracted; armor plates parted to allow weapon barrels to extend into position. A squad of Servators took aim at War Wing and fired a barrage of blaster bolts at the armored warrior. For the most part, the program that predicted an enemy's actions allowed human and AI to avoid taking anything more than a glancing blow that didn't even so much as mar the paint.
Two demons joined in the assault. They could not track a target someone moving as fast as War Wing, but they didn't need to. Coordinating their actions, cannon blasts exploded gouts of rock and dirt around the dodging enemy.
Shockwaves from a close explosion flung the Guardian off his feet. He quickly rolled away from several more near misses only to realize too late what the machine tactic was. In rolling away from the enemy fire, Adrian headed in the direction they wanted him to go.
Adrian's cry echoed loud and clear over the tac net as he rolled off the edge of the moat and plunged into the abyss.
Colonel Markson had held back from getting into the fight for fear of hitting War Wing. It wasn't that their weapons would actually damage the latest blend of Etherium alloy, but errant fire would certainly anger both operator and AI. If the colonel had learned anything from the mock training battle held at a training base the Val-kyrie used for live-fire exercises, it was that being on the receiving of a Guardian assault was, well, better to shoot yourself in the head and spare the agony. It was quicker that way.
Seeing War Wing topple out of sight, the colonel acted. "Light 'em up!" Markson ordered, tersely.
In response, nine pulse rifles opened up on available targets in each soldier's field of fire. Six Servators were cut down in seconds by explosive rounds. Another demon fell to a combination of explosive rounds and several well-place RPGs. Of the twenty-four Shadowdemons that started this siege, ten were out of action.
A squad of Servators broke away from the reinforcements and stomped off into the forest to flank their attackers. The random pieces of armor plate scattered across the forest edge were discounted as remnants from a previous battle because of the larger wrecks scattered east of the castle. Now, the enemy plan became a little clearer. There were more than just two armored defenders of the castle, they also had a small army hidden in the tree line. Losses were already creeping into the unacceptable range without further reinforcements from the assaults on Palace Eternia and Snake Mountain. At the current rate of attrition, those forces would not arrive in time to change the tide of battle.
Nevertheless, they were assigned to the task of assessing the defenses of Castle Grayskull and they were going to carry it out.
The call to watch out for a flanking maneuver happened quicker than expected. Leading elements of the flankers drew within range of their weapons when a Servator suddenly stumbled drunkenly, an arrow sticking out the side its head, and collapsed moments later. Sensors identified the arrowhead as Etherium. Only the Val-kyrie used such weapons, which meant there was at least one of them around. Another arrow slammed into the chest of the new lead machine; an explosive charge ravaged the delicate internals, dropping another flanker.
Servators returned fire as explosive rounds ripped up the undergrowth and blew chunks out the surrounding trees. Another machine went down. The enemy retreated before return fire could zero in on them.
Colonel Markson had been ruthless training his troops to fire on the run. You can't hit what won't stand still long enough to be shot. The defense line collapsed to the east with the soldiers performing a leapfrog maneuver: troops withdrawing further back while one or two soldiers laid down covering fire. The withdrawing troops would pause to fire on the enemy so their fellows could withdraw further beyond the new skirmish line to set up the next leg.
Servators recognized the tactic, disregarded the enemy fire, and simply marched into the jaws of waves of explosive rounds. The plus side of using such munitions was their ability to reduce the Servator force one unit at a time. The downside was that weapons ran out of ammo, requiring a reload. While reloading only took seconds, a Servator within firing range could make those seconds an eternity even with the elaborate plan of withdrawal being utilized.
Small arms and rockets sprinkled with the occasional arrow?
Victory was only a matter of time.
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