5.7
The LCs reacted the only way one should react when a machine as large as a Heavy MT flings itself at something.
They scattered, thrusters igniting as they all went in completely different directions. Left, right, backwards, upwards- any direction that wasn't in the Heavy MT's path. I picked one and followed, raising my gun as I did.
I had put only three weapons on this thing. First, the laser blade. Second, the bazooka. The third, however, was a fully automatic shotgun that had been upscaled to fit the full weight profile of a Heavy MT, and then fitted with high-density, armour-piercing slug shells.
The LC angled what was left of the shield it was carrying towards me as I pulled the trigger.
BLAM
The shield just about folded in half, the sheer kinetic energy of the round enough to knock the LC into a spin. I wasted no time following up, surging a little more energy into the boosters as I just about bowled the LC over, slamming into it with enough force to send the machine careening onto its back.
A laser blast hit the Heavy MT's back, followed shortly by machine gun bullets. I ignored all of it, overriding the systems as I brought the shotgun down, pushing the edge of the barrel directly into the 'neck' of the LC.
Curved and sloped armour didn't matter at this distance and angle. Another roaring BLAM echoed out, and the LC twitched before slumping, its head now only half attached and its pilot now more accurately described in terms of physics rather than biology.
A grenade exploded against the Heavy MT's side only a moment later, followed shortly by a volley of missiles from every direction. Explosions wracked my Heavy MT's body, shattering armour, damaging sensors, and throwing up numerous errors on the ACS as it came dangerously close to being overwhelmed.
I overrode the system, taking full manual control. This Heavy MT had done a lot of damage so far, but it was surrounded by reasonably high-powered units. It was not going to survive much longer, and an ACS overload would turn 'much longer' into 'a few seconds' at best.
I jumped, moving forwards and sideways, strategically firing the thrusters so that I could spin the Heavy MT around at a greater speed. My laser blade ignited, and I lashed out.
In a move I honestly didn't expect, my next target boosted into it. Their shield arm angled diagonally, and with skill that went beyond the training provided by the PCA, they used it to catch the arm of my Heavy MT, pushing at it.
My strike went wide, forced off course by the LC. They wasted no time following up, the other arm directing the machine gun towards the arm that had just been sent wide.
A grenade shot went straight into the elbow of the Heavy MT. Damage warnings flooded the feed, which I ignored because I didn't need them to tell me that I had just lost that entire arm, laser blade included.
I was impressed. Skill like that wasn't common in the PCA- not outside of SP, the special forces branch, anyway. That combination of immediate tactical decision making and the ability to both implement and survive it? That was a damned good pilot.
I needed him dead right now. The PCA was not allowed to have those. Good pilots have outsized effects on the battlefield.
I kicked him straight in the knee, one leg lashing out with a booster assist. Sheer weight took that leg entirely out from underneath the LC, and he almost tipped over before the Boosters ignited and he rose into the air.
Unfortunately for him, he was still at point blank range, and my bazooka had finished reloading.
I fired immediately.
Six oversized rockets straight to the chest was far too much for even an LC to survive, a flash of light reducing the machine to a cloud of shrapnel. It was close enough that the blasts even damaged my own Heavy MT, explosive force compromising the armour entirely, doing direct internal damage. Concussive force had just knocked more than a few pieces out of alignment, shattered most of the sensors, and even cracked the internal structure.
I started to turn to my next target, pulling the shotgun up-
And right as I did, a bullet found the hole in my armour. It punctured straight through the much less resilient structure, and then hit the generator compartment directly. The fuel cells sparked, and then ignited, a burst of flame consuming the Heavy MT in moments.
...
Hah... Welp, okay. I got what I wanted out of that whole thing anyway. Numbers are severely cut, and two LCs are down. We're on track. We're on track. We're on track...
Did I really only get to use that shotgun twice?
Aaargh!
That was a full auto shotgun! I was so ready to have a lot of fun with that thing!
Fine. Fine. Whatever.
My Heavy MT was burning where it stood, servos and hydraulics locked in place by its final power surge. More than a few extra bullets perforated my lovely little machine before the PCA figured out it was dead, though.
The silence was nearly deafening, after the sheer noise of the previous action, so quick and violent. Total engagement time for start to finish had been barely twenty seconds, yet so much had been lost so quickly...
"Si- sir?"
"... Keep moving. We need that data. We can't let these sacrifices be for nothing."
You shut the fuck up about your 'sacrifices', you wankers. You're not sacrificing shit. I pulled half of this stuff out of your playbook, even.
"Keep an eye in every direction at all times. No more surprises."
The squad allowed themselves only a few moments to reorganize, the now significantly smaller group keeping a steady pace.
The Sentries were also much more spaced out now, however. Where they had before been packed tightly for their numbers, now they maximized distance so they wouldn't get wiped the fuck out in a single blast. Experience really is the best teacher.
They approached the next passage like it would come alive and eat them. I unfortunately couldn't make that one literal, but paranoia and anticipation was doing nearly as good a job.
They breached into the next room with a swiftness that hadn't been present before now, scans launching in every direction and heads on a swivel, searching back and forth, up and down, left and right for any surprises. I didn't have any for them, this time, nor did I have for the next room they went into.
But the area they went after that was a cargo loading and unloading bay. It was a fairly long room, with a series of cranes, now dormant, hanging above a lot of empty containers on top of conveyor belts. At one end was their entrance. At the other, their destination. Just in front of their destination and blocking the way out?
"Artillery!"
A trio of sniper artillery railguns, mounted to the floor, and equipped with massive, thick armour plates on the front of them, leaving them damn nearly impervious to a frontal assault that they had no choice but to make thanks to this room, that were also surrounded by a score of MTs equipped for close and medium range combat.
If they could get through this, they'd have a straight shot to their destination. Anywhere else would be much worse for them than this, and this was already pretty bad.
The railguns charged. It was a very brief moment to react, and unfortunately, not all of the PCA squad had the machines to be able to do anything about it.
The LCs had just enough time to scatter, immediately boosting left and right to try and take cover. Unfortunately, the only cover worth a damn against those artillery railguns were the structural pillars of the Grid, and in this room, those were only wide enough for a few machines.
Two artillery railguns fired at the entrance, where the Sentries awaited. Two ultra-dense penetrator rounds punched straight down, moving so fast that the air caught fire in front of them, trailing with a scream of displaced air. Both rounds found a target, and both of those targets as well as everything behind those targets promptly had holes ripped straight through them, the penetration so violent that the hallway briefly lit up with flashes of light from the plasma of vaporising matter.
The third round was aimed at one of the LCs, which didn't quite have the fortune of being able to get into cover, nor did they have nearly the skill required to dodge the round itself in the brief moment of warning it had.
Damaged as it was, there wasn't even the most remote chance of survival. The railgun dart punctured its shield, its arm, its torso, and then a decent way through the superstructure behind it on top of that, spilling molten metal and plasma in its wake.
That left exactly four LCs as all that remained of the PCA force.
They had been cut down so much, as I had planned. Now, if I was right, the captain had a reasonably good head on his shoulders, and...
"Charge now! We need to get close before that artillery reloads!"
Hey! I was right.
Good 'ol PCA, always so predictable.
It helps that this was about the best decision they could have made. Artillery railguns did not have the speediest reloads, and unless they wanted to be pinned to that position under threat of immediate annihilation, then getting close was about the only choice that one could make, because at least up close the artillery would have much more difficulty drawing a bead on you.
Still, this was a long room, and none of these LCs had High Mobility equipment. Without that, while they were still fairly agile, they didn't have the raw speed that an AC would be able to achieve.
They made it just over halfway across when the railguns finished reloading. Three railguns, four enemies. All of the remainders were about the same in terms of structural integrity, so it didn't really matter which ones of the four I ended up shooting...
Mmm. Closest to furthest, then. The captain was the furthest away, but that was a range bracket of only a few meters. No cowards here.
My railguns aimed, charging up again.
To my surprise, the middle one of the three was more on the ball than either of the ones in front or behind. His Boosters ignited very nearly the same instant that the charging began, beginning a rather violent dodge.
It was probably luck more than anything else, to be honest. Having seen his performance until now, I hadn't seen anything special.
Oh well.
The guns fired. Two LCs were ripped out of the air, railgun darts punching straight through their chests with enough force to blow the limbs clean off. The middle LC was more fortunate, the dart missing by what could have only been a few millimetres.
I shifted my MTs just as the LCs opened up with a missile barrage, spreading the group a bit as I readied my weapons. The missiles mostly hit the front line of my shields, but a few went over and hit the actual mechs instead.
I fired back, of course, directing the entirety of my firepower towards the mech who'd managed the dodge. Fluke or not, I wasn't going to let that one get away.
The LCs crashed into my line, guns and grenades flying. Shotgun and machine gun rounds greeted them in turn.
It was a rather close battle, honestly, with how damaged they were. A squad of fresh MTs versus two really battered LCs...
Still, I got my necessary shot in after my squad had been reduced down to a third, a missile strike stunning the LC for long enough that I was able to hit it with a pair of shotguns at point blank. With armour so compromised, something went through, and it must have hit a power feed, because the generator detonated shortly afterwards, briefly casting the area in the blue glow of a fusion generator burning out when the capacitors overloaded.
The battle was over shortly afterwards, the final LC, the captain, destroying the last MTs and artillery platforms.
He spent only a few seconds before he moved on, charging through the last door.
Credit to him, he stayed alert. However, I had already accomplished all of my goals, and thus, he met no resistance as he made his way to his destination.
"Code 40." He announced, sliding to a stop next to a data terminal.
He wasted no time establishing a connection. PCA EWAR programs activated, a ping running out through the system, a few returns making their way back-
And that was as far as it got before I simply turned off his network access, adding his hardware address to the auto-ignore list.
"... What?"
You got played, dummy.
And now the PCA knows exactly what I want them to know.
Fifteen return pings had been made. Fifteen other network controllers, distributed throughout the entire Grid.
And nothing else.
The speed at which I reacted, however, told them one additional piece of info, and that's what I wanted them to act upon.
"No. That can't be... Just like that? This was pointless..."
Cope and seethe.
"Code 41d." The captain announced. "Enemy artificial intelligence. Code 31f."
A few seconds passed in silence.
"Verdict rendered. Deploying full scale Enforcement Squads."
Heh.
Hahahahahaha.
Yes.
Now, things are about to get very fun.