Robotech: The Stargate Saga Version 2.1
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and universes that I am about to mangle around and mash together for my own demented author amusement – sadly all Robotech and Stargate characters and concepts remain the property of Harmony Gold and MGM respectively – I am merely borrowing them and make absolutely no profit from their use. As a result, please keep the legal attack dogs – also known as lawyers – firmly muzzled and on a leash as I have no money to give to anyone.
Chapter Three
Front Gatehouse
Fort Minotaur, Crete
A Few Minutes Earlier
Private Adrian Campbell was bored.
As he had been every day for this last duty rotation, he was sitting here in the guard house watching the feeds from the sensors and cameras that monitored the perimeter of Fort Minotaur searching constantly for any threat to the base. It was a job that to his twenty-year-old mind was the textbook definition of boring. He had joined the military to add some spice, some excitement to his life, not to just sit around watching a bunch of monitors. If he had wanted to do that, do something so boring, he would have become an accountant like his elder brother was.
He glanced at the chronometer on the wall, noting that it was approaching 1400 hours. Another two hours of this tedium then I can clock off and I'm off on leave for a week then, he thought with a slight smile as he imagined the fun he was going to have over the next few days. While a week wasn't enough time to make his way back home to the small town in rural Pennsylvania where he'd grown up – global air travel had a long way to go before it recovered from the Rain as so many jetliners had been incinerated in transit during the Rain as the sky suddenly filled with lethal energy beams – there was time for him to really let his hair down. There were some nice pubs and nightclubs in downtown Heraklion, perfect places for a guy to unwind.
He put those thoughts out of his mind for now as he picked up his mug of coffee. Only to find to his displeasure that the blasted thing was empty. Grumbling, he stood up and went over to the coffee machine and poured himself a fresh cup. He was just returning to his station with a fresh, well freshish, mug of the liquid that everyone in the military practically ran on – he was really going to have to change the filter soon as it was starting to taste a bit stale – when one of the perimeter sensors emitted a warning bleep.
"If it's a bloody rabbit again," he muttered as he sat down and pulled up the feed from the sensor. It was one of the camera feeds that was monitoring the approach road to the base. The blasted thing was hypersensitive and thus was forever getting tripped by rabbits or other small animals bounding across the road.
The camera feed appeared…
…and the mug of coffee slipped from this hand to shatter on the floor. He didn't notice as he was too busy staring at the camera feed in shock and horror. Walking up the road was what looked like an entire platoon of battle mecha, specifically a mixture of Spartan and Tomahawk destroids with what looked like two Monster destroids following slowly behind.
Quickly he sent an interrogative command to the computer, prompting it to both send an IFF request to the approaching mecha as well as checking if any of the bases mecha platoons were out today. As far as he knew nobody was out but that didn't necessarily mean anything. If Jeremy failed to tell me that someone was out when I took over from him, I'm so going to kick his ass, he thought as the results came back. There was nobody out today, certainly not in platoon strength, plus the destroids were not giving off UEDF IFF signals, or any IFF signals at all in point of fact. Which meant only one thing…
…they were hostile.
Instantly his training kicked in. Reaching out he pressed the alert button, setting alarms ringing throughout the base and bringing the automated perimeter defences fully online while also within the base causing personnel to begin scrambling to stations to defend themselves and the base. Simultaneously with sounding the alarm the control triggered blast shutters on the small kiosk-like room that was his station.
The shutters were just closing when he heard a whistling sound. A moment later he felt some tremendous force lift him up as if he weighed nothing, instead of a hundred and eighty pounds, and slam him into the far wall with enough force that he was instantly robbed of consciousness.
Pilots Ready Room
Rick Hunter laughed as the pilot sitting across from him finished telling him a little story about how he had humiliated a squadron of EBSIS Karyovins that had tried to intrude on European airspace. The rulers of the much reduced Soviet Union – whose partial collapse in the mid-nineties had been one of the major catalysts for the Global Civil War – had been getting bolder recently, pushing to reclaim those Eastern European countries that they had had to give independence to in the nineties as their nation teetered on the brink of complete collapse and anarchy. The problem was many of those countries were now part of the United Earth Government and had little interest in returning to communism.
Of course, that didn't stop EBSIS from trying to bully and intimidate them. The UEG was well aware of that and was making it a point to have their forces patrol the borderlands both in the air and on the ground. So far aside from the occasional staring match nothing violent had happened. EBSIS leaders weren't idiots they knew that the UEG had far superior firepower to them, that their vast nuclear arsenal meant nothing compared to the weapons they had, plus they also controlled the ultimate high ground of space and thus could easily rain particle beams or lasers down upon any hostile forces. It was one such encounter that the other pilot, Lieutenant Matheson, had just finished telling him about.
"Man, I would have loved to see the looks on those pilots faces when you switched to battloid in front of them," he commented.
"It would have been funny as it was they practically wet themselves," Matheson agreed chuckling even as he shook his head. Those EBSIS pilots had thought themselves so hot, thought that because they outnumbered him three to one that they could push his Valkyrie around. Until that was, he switched to battloid mode and grabbed the nose cone of the leaders fighter with one hand while pointing the GU-11 gunpod right at the head of the pilot. While he naturally hadn't been able to see his face because of the black visor the Russian had been scared almost out of his mind.
Rick chuckled again at that before taking a sip of fresh orange juice, which was one of the perks of being stationed here since there were a fair few citrus plantation on the island and taking a moment to look around the pilots ready room. There weren't many people here right now, most of the squadrons based here were either out on patrol right now – EBSIS wasn't the only state in this region that was pushing its luck recently so were those Islamic fundamentalists in charge of the United Islamic Republics – or were on leave. As a result there were only a handful of veritech pilots on the base. Pilots who had been quick to open their arms to him after he'd freshened up – being one of the top aces of the Robotech War and Skull Leader kind of helped there – and they'd spent the time since doing what military pilots inevitably did when they got together. Which was clown around and swap stories of their exploits. He had had the whole lot of them laughing when he told them what he did when he first came to Macross Island and in a dinky little fanjet racer outperformed four Valkyries in a simple booster climb aerial stunt.
It was at that moment that the emergency scramble alarm went off, accompanied by a base wide alert warning of approaching hostiles. Immediately the room turned into a beehive of activity as pilots hurriedly downed drinks and got to their feet. Rick hesitated as he finished his own drink, while his instincts as a combat pilot were telling him to go get on a flight suit and join whatever fight was about to start he wasn't sure if he should since he wasn't assigned here.
"Captain Hunter, would you care to join us," Lieutenant Young, the leader of the only squadron currently on the base said, approaching. "We have a few free Valkyrie's right now – I know it won't be Skull One but."
Rick smiled. "I'd love to," he replied, having missed being in the cockpit of a veritech. After all his last few flights had been sitting in the cockpit of a boring government jet. He stood up. "I'll just go get into a flight suit."
"I'll make sure a plane is ready for you."
"Thanks."
A Few Minutes Earlier
Sitting in the cockpit of his upgraded destroid a man who now only knew of, and thought of himself, as Prime due to both his rank in the service of Vosegus and the fact that he had been the first of his kind. A new kind of enhanced warrior that when his lord finally returned to the stars – after countless millennia of being forced to live on Earth, denied what should have rightfully been his – would sweep them clean of those who had condemned Vosegus to this existence and let their living god reign supreme as he always should have. It would be a righteous campaign and when Vosegus rose it would truly be a glorious day.
A day that had come unexpectedly much closer than anyone could have foreseen.
As he guided his Spartan destroid around a bend in the road, bringing the gates of Fort Minotaur into view though they were still someway off, Prime thought about the events that had precipitated this current, admittedly quite risky, deployment. A few days ago one of their sleeper agents had reported that after millennia of being lost this worlds chappa'ai – and with it easy access to the stars – had been found, found and brought to Fort Minotaur for analysis. Lord Vosegus had been searching for it for centuries, and indeed had quietly sponsored a number of expeditions to find it, and now it was almost within his grasp.
They just had to get it away from the infidels who currently had it. Which was why this platoon of destroids, that Lord Vosegus had acquired from other sleepers and upgraded with his divine knowledge, had been dispatched. They weren't alone more of his fellow followers – both Jafftari like himself or just humans – were coming in three transport planes to complete a takeover of the base. Planes that would also transport the chappa'ai away from here once they acquired it.
While he was fully confident that they would succeed in their mission – they had the power and blessing of a living god behind them after all – Prime had to admit, to himself at least, that this was not going to be an easy mission. The infidels after all had robotechnology based weapons such as laser and particle cannons, weapons that would make them a formidable opponent even for them. He also admitted that they wouldn't have the forces to hold the base for long, as the UEG was certain to quickly counterattack with forces no doubt being sent from Camelot Base located on the Salisbury Plane in the United Kingdon and if they were really unlucky the Zentraedi would send forces from their warships in orbit, but then they didn't need to.
A warning bleep from the computer brought him out of his thoughts. He looked at his screens and scowled when he noticed that a perimeter sensor around the base had been tripped and that the base was now sending an interrogative IFF signal to them. Damnation I was hoping we would get a bit closer before we were detected, he thought knowing that they had no way to give a 'friendly' answer since they lacked up to date information on UEDF IFF transponder codes, they were well protected and none of their lords operatives had been able to get close enough to acquire them without arousing suspicion.
As a result while he was irritated he wasn't particularly surprised when the energy emissions from the base suddenly began increasing as its defence systems began powering up. He resisted, just, the impulse to groan in annoyance. This was a complication that they could have well done without, but such was life.
"Monsters take out the main gates before they seal," he ordered, even as he observed large metal shutters made from a dense robotechnology alloy beginning to emerge from slots in the wall to seal the gates. If those shutters – made as they were from warship grade armour plating – successfully closed, then what was already going to be a difficult task would become near impossible.
He need not have worried as the two Monsters roared again. Eight 381mm heavy railgun slugs – each packing a plasma warhead – slammed into the shutters, four to each, and detonated. The yellow-white flash of plasma detonations momentarily blinded his external cameras but when he could see again the could see that they had done their job. The gatehouse next to the doors had broken and both shutters had been pulverized as had the gates beyond them…
…the way was open.
"All forces move in," he ordered calmly. "Head straight for the runways and surface to air batteries. We need to take them so our troop carriers can land." He did not need to say that they needed those troop carriers to be sure to take the base long enough to recover the Stargate. A chorus of affirmative's came from his fellows, and he began guiding his Spartan towards the entrance.
It was then however that things began to go wrong as the base defenders were clearly reacting far faster than they had expected they would. The first indication of this being when one of the perimeter turrets opened up on them, spewing rapid fire bolts of a blue-white particle energy towards them. One of the Tomahawk's was hit almost immediately and immediately staggered, an energy field flaring into existence around it as their lord's protection activated as the blasts tore at it. A second volley of charged particle bolts from the turret hit the staggering mecha and the field collapsed allowing the following volley to blow the destroid apart.
Growling in annoyance he aimed the modified gunpod he was holding in the Spartans hands at the turret and fired. Bolts of golden glowing, divine wrath blasted forth from the gunpod the plasma salvo crossing the distance to the turret almost immediately. Only to slam into a shimmering green wall that appeared in front of the turret and break apart in a blaze of sparks as a force field of some type stopped it cold. Pinpoint barrier how did we not know the base has those things, he thought in annoyance as he fired again a second Spartan joining in. The defence barrier flared, sparked, and crackled before finally giving way allowing the two streams of plasma fire to begin digging into the turret.
For a moment it looked like the turrets armour would hold, that somehow Vosegus had underestimated just how strong robotech armour was, then it gave way allowing the plasma to enter the vulnerable insides of the turret. With the predictable result that the turret exploded in a blaze of smoke and flames but not before firing on him, its charged particle bolt slamming into his shield like an energetic sledgehammer dropping the barrier strength by nearly a half from just one blast. The fusion reactor immediately began regenerating the defence even as he got his Spartan moving again, charging onto the base with the others.
They were immediately met with a wall of weapons fire ranging from small arms like laser pistols and rifles, to fixed turrets and even some of defensive garrison of destroids that were beginning to appear from their storage areas to confront the intruders. Shields glowed with orange-gold light but held so far as most of the weapons fire was too light to overwhelm them. Though that would change fast when heavier destroids and likely veritech fighters armed with plasma missiles got involved.
"Push forward," he ordered his fellows, "crush everyone in our way. For Vosegus."
"For Vosegus," his brothers in arms cried back. Prime smiled as they charged forward firing with everything they had, unleashing a relentless barrage of plasma, autocannon, railgun and missile fire upon these infidels, these enemies of their god. The wall of firepower pushed the still organising defenders back allowing the intruding warriors of Vosegus to expand their perimeter and push towards the first of their objectives – the surface to air missile batteries.
Then the bottom fell out on them.
The first sign of the fight turning against them was when four objects – Stiletto missiles – slammed into the first of the two Monsters just as it was lining up to fire on the SAM batteries. The first two plasma detonations cracked the shield, making it shatter in a blaze of prismatic light letting the next two slam into and punch through the layered titanium-hypercarbon armour to detonate within the mecha instantly turning it into a fireball. The speed of the Monsters destruction caught Prime by surprise and he looked around to see where the missiles had come from even as the second of their two Monsters suffered the same fate, erupting into a fireball.
A second later he saw them.
A squadron of veritechs in the hybrid fighter/battloid mode known as guardian mode streaking across the ground towards them. Missiles, nose lasers and GU-11 hypervelocity autocannon gunpods blazing as they closed in. They weren't alone following along behind them was a whole divisions worth of destroids – all of them looking as pissed off as machines could – and a squad of Centaur hover tanks. An overwhelming force if ever their was one.
For a moment Prime stared at them in stupefied, horrified astonishment. Then he cursed realizing that while their agent had provided them with the location of the Stargate and the general details of the base layout, they hadn't given them complete information on the bases defenders. Almost certainly because either they hadn't known or since then the defences had been upgraded to deter the likes of EBSIS or the UIR from trying anything stupid. There would now be no chance of taking this place even temporarily. Despair that he had failed in his mission, failed his god, threatened to overwhelm him at that revelation it almost made him want to just stand still and let the defenders kill him. Then his eyes narrowed, and he vowed that if he was going out then he would go out fighting – at least then he would earn a place of honour in the afterlife.
Thus, he started to bring the Spartan's gunpod to bear on one of the veritechs a moment before a missile slammed into him. The force of the impact knocked him back hard against his restraints and alarms went off warning that the warheads plasma blast had depleted his shield. Frantically he operated the controls managing just to keep the Spartan stable. However, in the process he dropped the gunpod.
Cursing softly to himself he flipped the switches to arm the chest gun cluster. Until that was, he saw the veritech had switched to battloid and was aiming its gunpod right at him. If the battloid fired now the autocannon rounds would shred him like tinfoil. Knowing that he only had once chance left to earn any honour in the afterlife, by taking an enemy with him into the great beyond, he charged forward intent on knocking the battloid over and lying on top of it. At which point he would fire everything in the chest gun cluster which would certainly destroy them both.
Unfortunately, the pilot seemed to read his intent. At the last possible moment, and with an agility that both showed the incredible organic-like movement abilities of robotech battle mecha and the fact that the pilot was extremely skilled in using his craft, dodging to the side allowing him to charge past unable to stop in time. The pilot then fired into the back of the Spartan at virtually point blank range, the hypervelocity rounds from the gunpod tearing first through the slowly regenerating shield, then the armour before seriously damaging the Spartans main power conduit.
Immediately the Spartans simple AI began powering the mecha down but it could only react so quickly. As a result for a moment a massive charge of electricity ran from the Spartans fusion power plant to the entire mecha including the cockpit module. Prime screamed in agony as the sudden surge of electrons rushed through his system bringing with it a tsunami of pain…
…followed by darkness as he lost consciousness.
Rick smiled as he watched the destroid that had attempted to suicide tackle him – really who did that? Not even the likes of Khyron would do such a thing as they knew such moves never worked – went inert after his shots destroyed the primary conduit that ran like a spinal cord up and down the back of the mecha. While the mecha had lost power, the simple AI it like all mecha would have having scrammed the fusion power plant that most destroids ran off, sensors confirmed that the pilot was alive just unconscious either from the impact with the ground, getting a massive shock as the damage to the conduit would have sent a massive overcharge through the machine or a combination of the two.
Calmly he looked around and assessed the rest of the battle to see that it was over. The destroids and veritechs that had reacted to defend Fort Minotaur from the sudden attack moving calmly through the wreckage of the attackers, much of which was smouldering and burning from the intense heat of particle beams, lasers, and plasma warheads. Ground troops in battle armour were also approaching, searching for survivors so they could learn who the hell these people had been, where they had come from and how there destroids came to be upgraded with energy shields and for the Spartans to be armed with some type of plasma rifle instead of the normal GU-11 gunpod.
A check of his sensors showed that there were no other survivors in the remains of the mecha. But then there rarely were survivors when battles were fought with the immense destructive power of modern weaponry. Robotech weapons just didn't tend to leave survivors. Whoever the pilot of the Spartan was, he or she was the only one who might be able to give them some answers as to the identity of the attackers and what the hell they had been hoping to accomplish.
Which was why he slung up the GU-11 like it was a giant rifle, before squatting down and flipping the Spartan over onto its back exposing the access to the pilots compartment. Extending the veritechs manipulation tools he accessed the external emergency controls causing the hatch to open and the chair holding the pilot to slide out. Carefully he picked up the unconscious pilot and gestured for some of the armour wearing marines to come over – which they promptly did.
"This one is still alive," he said, the external speakers relaying his voice clearly. "Though from the looks of him he's gotten one hell of an electric shock. Take him to the infirmary but keep him under heavy guard."
"Sir yes sir," one of the marines acknowledged as he set their prisoner down. He stepped back to watch as a combat medical team approached even as the marines searched their prisoner, extracting a strange, coiled serpent shaped device from a hip holster – its positioning indicating it was some kind of sidearm – along with a wicked looking knife – a kukri he noted – from a holster on the other hip. Then satisfied that their prisoner was disarmed turned him over to the combat medics.
He was about to turn away, to check over the rest of the battlefield, when the external cameras caught the marined removing the helmet, the guy was wearing – and from his extremely muscular build he was definitely a guy, an exceptionally fit one at that – and he saw his face…
…and gasped in shock and recognition.
"Sir are you alright," one of the marines, from the IFF his powered combat suit was giving off he was a lieutenant, asked having heard him gasp loud enough for the battloids internal microphones to pick it up. "Sir, do you recognise this guy?"
"I do indeed lieutenant," Rick replied at last, mind still reeling wondering what the hell he was doing here. Last he'd heard he and his mother had been on a post high school graduation tour of Europe. Until that was he had abruptly run away to join a cult led by some guy called Vosegus – which was a downright weird name now that he thought about it – much to Aunt Maria's horror and despair. It was clear that something had happened to Nathan while he was in that cult, something major that had changed him in more ways than just giving him muscles that wouldn't look out of place on a professional bodybuilder.
"I don't know what he's doing here or how he became so buff as he was a six-foot beanpole last time I saw him," he continued mind awhirl with the revelation of who had led this sudden, and ultimately futile, attack on Fort Minotaur, "but his name is name is Nathan, Nathan Hunter – he's, my cousin."
Authors Note: Well, I hope you all enjoyed the new version of the attack on Fort Minotaur and how some of the characters – especially Rick – were more involved. I also wanted to show more of what Nathan was like while under the control of the Prime persona created by Vosegus.