The times make the man, much as the world offers its chances. A man or woman is then left with only two real options; rise to the challenge, or run from the consequences. There are many factors that influence the choice. The more attachments someone has to the world, the greater their reticence in meeting the challenge. Some are better prepared for the opportunities that come knocking; some are just more determined to succeed.
For me, all semblance of choice was ripped away on that fateful day. My friends and I; no, allow me to correct myself. My remaining family and I spent the next seven years preparing ourselves physically, mentally, and emotionally for a challenge that we did not know would ever manifest; but we continued to prepare none-the-less.
Without a clear vision, a defined path to follow, I was left to focus on self-discipline. The only recourse left to defend against the pain of the terrible injustice done to me as a survivor was to channel the pain and hurt that had now become part of me into an all-consuming rage; narrowing my focus entirely to encompass only vengeance for those who were so terribly wronged.
Make no mistake about my intentions or purpose. Vengeance is to be my sword, justice the impenetrable shield that I will carry with me forever more. Those accused, those who wronged me and mine in the way they did, they had their chance to receive a fair sentence for their crimes, a chance to atone for their many and incalculable sins. The system itself had a chance to mete out an appropriate punishment. Their combined willful failures have finally caught up to them.
Money? Money? I have no need of money soaked in the blood of my parents, my friends, my family. I cannot buy them back from Hades eternally jealous grasp with slips of paper, for their innocent souls are and always were priceless. Instead, I have utilized my patience, re-forging myself within the limitless depths of unquenchable anger, employing the government’s blood money against those who have so wronged me and mine.
These injustices have not gone unnoticed, the wrongs will be righted, those who have sinned will be held accountable, and this time a sentence will be unequivocal.
Chapter 5 - The Red Planet
We who have inherited nothing but despair, will tear down the walls created to imprison us with the eternal beacon of hope -- Alyona
The fear was gone, replaced by adrenaline and muscle memory from the vast amount of practice in preparation for this moment. The next couple of minutes passed in a blur as he synced fully with Starkindler. The IV tubes were inserted under his skin in order to feed him the vital fluids he would need during his extended stay in the cockpit that was to be his new home, as well as a unique cocktail of drugs that would boost senses, reflexes, and combat abilities. He flipped switches for the external power supply to disengage from the shuttle and began charging the energy shields while Aurora performed a complete system and sensory check.
Aurora activated a kill virus housed back on the shuttle that would wipe the data drives seconds after Starkindler was programmed to launch. Another small set of code injection followed, allowing her to oversee the detonation of a small amount of explosives next to the oversized and still nearly full fuel tanks onboard the shuttle. The explosion was intended to obliterate all evidence of their origin, leaving no trace of Mikkhael’s arrival planetside, removing any reason for a more detailed investigation by the overstretched Martian government’s forces.
The shuttle shuddered as it began to descend from the upper atmosphere of Mars into the lower, triggering an automated jettisoning of items that would be useful later in the campaign. The different pods of items would maintain orbit similar to satellites, waiting to be recovered until they were called upon. A few items separated from the rest, and actually were small satellites, equipped with cameras and built to function with the sole purpose of providing eyes in the sky. There in the upper atmosphere, the assortment of supplies and satellites would remain a secret, his aces in the hole to be used in the most extreme circumstances.
As the shuttle continued to fall towards the quickly growing red planet, the lack of atmosphere or drag similar to what would occur while performing a similar maneuver on Earth unnerved him. He kept waiting for the red flames, heat, and violent shuddering of orbital entry to occur; but instead he only experienced something more similar to falling from a great height like on a roller coaster. Passing through the thin lower atmosphere mostly comprised of Co2, a much larger cargo pod detached itself. Shaped like a smaller hybrid of the shuttle and an anti-grav cart combined after a freak mating accident, the pod was filled with equipment and materials to repair and refit Starkindler. It would perform a sort of powered/gliding fall down to the surface separate from them, where Aurora would assume control through a radio link and hide the pod. Once he secured some sort of base to operate from, he would have to retrieve it. Taking advantage of the extreme height, Aurora would be able to steer the glider the several hundred miles between their current location and the Valles Marineris canyon system. Even though he knew the canyon system was enormous from their studies of the terrain, seeing them in person even from space blew him away. They covered nearly a fourth of the planet’s surface and could fit the Grand Canyon he was familiar with in one of the myriad of tributary canyons, providing him with a million easy ways to keep the pod hidden from discovery by the Martian Planetary Defense Forces.
Starkindler was now fully functional as the boot up process completed. He performed an introspective scan and found himself prepared for the next phase. Gripping the wrist controls firmly, he watched the countdown timer in nervous anticipation, feeling his heart begin to race and his core temperature rise as adrenaline flooded throughout his system. He had never actually flown the Mech outside of a simulation. Back on Earth, they had embedded sensors on every piece before installing them, testing each piece individually and as a part of the whole machine in real time. This process allowed them to create the most realistic simulator possible of how Starkindler operated, but this time would be for real, on a hostile planet that contained the largest military humanity had ever created under a single banner.
The countdown timer reached zero, and then the cargo bay doors swung open, presenting a yawning hole of nothing. Then the platform on which the Mech armor rested began moving towards the great abyss until Starkindler teetered on the precipice of nihility. The shuttle performed its last act of programmed instructions. Knowing that Mikkhael was human and would hesitate at the last moment, Alyona programmed the shuttle to nose up just enough to make Starkindler slip out into a free fall, following which the shuttle settled over onto its side aiming for a small mountain just over sixty miles away. It barreled towards the hill unaware of its imminent fate, engines at full thrust with the oversized fuel tanks still nearly full, explosives at the ready, until finally ending itself in a giant inferno of flames and destruction on the side of the hill, leaving little more than a black streak on the unforgiving planet’s surface.
Mikkhael was now in an unguided upside-down free fall, hurtling towards the Martian surface, trying not to panic as he attempted to gain control and failed badly, his hands flailing uselessly in front of him. Just then, Aurora caused the shuttle to climb. He had been about to insert his wrists into the flight controls and instead completely missed, the world falling out from underneath him instead. As the Mech armor tumbled uncontrolled towards the rapidly approaching ground, images flashed through his mind of coming all this way with the galaxies most advanced war machine simply to die ingloriously, between the lethal combination of bad luck and his own stupidity upon exiting the shuttle.
Seeing his inability to cope with the situation, Aurora keyed the mic, succinctly asking, "Do you require assistance?"
"No, but you can have this one." Mikkhael retorted.
The letters on his HUD reformed for just an instant, pixelating into a wolfish grin, then, almost immediately, he felt a wing engage into an active position. The effect was dramatic; he and Starkindler went into a spin end over end, the g-forces pressed down on his chest, not allowing his lungs to refill with
oxygen until the pressures temporarily blacked him out. Unwatched, his data feed continued showing them in a quickly decelerating maneuver still five thousand feet above surface level as the engines engaged, slowing their now feet-first descent.
Once the waves of g-forces finished crashing over him, he woke back up with a little help from Aurora and the IV in his arm through which she fed him a burst of adrenaline. His training in the simulation took over, and he recovered quickly. He whispered a still shaky, “Thank you,” into his mic and then almost unconsciously muttered, “My turn,” as he took charge. He kept one eye on his data feeds, instructing Aurora to perform scans looking for anything friendly as well as placing a permanent tracker on anything ID’d as hostile.
Occasionally, he would look over at the area map displayed on a side monitor, keeping track of their position relative to their first destination, an automated and remote weather monitoring station; one of the many scattered across the sparsely inhabited Martian landscape. They were small and rundown now; some of the first settlers on Mars had been scientists initiating a century long terraforming program, building the stations in order to help track and warn against the deadly and seemingly random storms that raged across the planetary surface sometimes for months at a time.
What made the weather station a point of interest to Mikkhael and Aurora was the overlooked fact that Mars industries and its puppet army still used them regularly, not only for weather mapping, but also for routing their covert surveillance infrastructure. While not giving them open access to the PDF computer systems directly, they would be able to crack the door of the PDF network. The encryption they found at the weather station was old and easily broken by Aurora, using the link to steadily compromise more of the PDF networks, slowly infiltrating farther and farther into their systems, one network at a time.
The operation was so simple it created its own problem; what to do next. Mikkhael had smoothly flown the miles from where they entered planetside to the weather station, remaining low to the ground in order to avoid detection by radar system and random patrols. His control of Starkindler was as absolute in reality as it had been in the simulators, and he was further impressed by Kurt’s obsessive attention to detail over the last year as everything worked exactly as intended.
He eased shakily into a soft landing just outside of the wind beaten shack of faded permacrete. Now that they arrived at the weather station and he temporarily had nothing to do, Aurora keyed the cockpit mic. “You should rest while you can. I will keep watch and alert you if anything happens.”
His fast paced journey from the surface of Earth to the remote weather station took less than eight hours, but the stress of what he had done took a severe toll on his body. His body felt weak, barely able to move, and the lids of his eyes were threatening to close of their own volition for some time now. Between those factors, and the small relaxant fed him via the IV, he fell asleep instantly.
While he slept, she disengaged a purpose built drone from the Mech. The small weather-proofed drone crawled on tracked wheels over to the cabling outside of the station. It bore a small hole in specific cables and inserted a new connection that was then spliced with the old cables, forming an external connection to the cable that could not be detected. Configured to give a powerful off site boost to Aurora’s processing capability via satellite links, the drone would also serve as a conduit for her to access the cable feed and manipulate the data coming back and forth. When they left the site, she would communicate with the drone via a satellite relay, the chances of being detected were nearly zero, as the sites were no longer physically maintained.
She spent the next several hours establishing her virtual presence within the stations internal network, while also beginning the process of hacking into the Martian military’s vast array of networks. Aurora left the majority of her abilities and resources tied locally to the drone and the station with the option to call upon them as needed. In the meantime, the shell of herself would continuously compromise more of the military networks like a virus feasting on a new host, while her processing capability grew with each new machine she assimilated, creating a virtuous cycle of limitless growth capabilities.
* * * * *
"General Akari Sir. We received a report from Space Command informing us that the Jump Gate System registered what they believe to be an unidentified use of the gate into our system. The report’s details are not clear, but it looks as if two ships made it through the same jump somehow instead of just the scheduled freighter." SSgt Anderson handed his commander the data slate, showing him the official report.
"How long ago did this… anomaly occur SSgt?" General Akari asked.
"Over thirty-six hours ago, Sir. The space administration took their sweet time forwarding the report.
"Well what the hell do they expect me to do with this, why should I care?" General Akari muttered, glancing over the report.
The SSgt hesitated; he knew the General’s tone meant his patience for the matter was non-existent. Normally, he would apologize and make an excuse for the General. This time, however, something in the report had caught his attention and he believed the matter warranted his superiors’ examination. "Most of the way through the report, they included an event detection readout from an Ascender relay that detected a large explosion unrelated to any battles. It was located in a remote region along the Ninth Mechanized Armor division’s area of operations. They believe the two incidents might be linked, and are asking us to investigate as the Ninth is currently otherwise engaged, Sir."
The General paused, this time actually reading the report himself, ensuring that it contained no other surprises before he issued orders. "Okay. Prepare the rapid response team. Authorize a Mechanized infantry company in support; their orders are to investigate the crash site and kill anything out of place. Did SAPO bother to give any indication what we might be looking for?"
"Not much, Sir. The information they passed along was sketchy. It is always hard to tell what they're hiding, or if they're truly incompetent,” the SSgt smirked.
The General looked twice at his aide; it was the closest he came to a rebuke for being out of line. The SSgt was a competent aide in a bureaucracy staffed entirely with political dandies and other useless combat rejects, and as such was allowed more freedom then normally granted his station, but there were still limits. "If the spooks care so much, why are they not investigating this matter themselves? Any ideas SSgt?"
"Just a guess, Sir. There was only a one-line reference buried near the bottom of the report that probably should have been redacted, but it sounds like the move someone pulled to get through the gate system was pretty hairy and required one large pair of titanium balls. I believe they think this has some kind of combat implications and are too scared to investigate the matter further themselves."
General Akari loosed a “humph.” Despite his best efforts to ignore the situation, he was now officially intrigued. "We are expendable, good to know. Okay SSgt. How long until we can get the rapid response team prepped, the Mechanized infantry company supporting them ready, and ready the Chimera transports they will need?"
The SSgt had researched the answer beforehand, knowing the question would be asked. "Two to four hours, Sir."
The General nodded encouragingly while continuing to read the report. When finished, he finally looked over to the SSgt. "Good work. Keep me updated. This has spook bullshit written all over it, and if we don’t find anything, they are going to be unable to sit and play with their fancy toys for days from receiving my size ten boot up their ass. See it done. Dismissed."
* * * * *
Aurora let Mikkhael sleep while she worked through the day, dusk enveloped the world much faster here than back on Earth; she then fed him a test amount of another drug cocktail that significantly boosted his alertness level. Vera composed a mixture of concentrated caffeine, nicotine, adrenaline, and a series of synthetic drugs she compounded herself. With just a small amount of the drug inserted through t
he IV, Mikkhael instantly went from a deep sleep to an active and alert mental state, sitting up, awake and ready in the pilot’s chair that instantly formed around his new posture.
Mikkhael laughed as he instantly oriented himself after the rude awakening. Under the effects of the drugs, he assessed the current situation without the disorientation of waking up on a foreign planet in the cockpit of an advanced war machine that he had never actually flown before until today. Aurora gave him a brief synopsis of her mission’s status while he slept, starting the reactor, and beginning the boot up sequence. When they were ready, he shifted into a glide and fly pattern towards their next target, effortlessly eating away the miles.
The vast majority of Mech Armor could not fly due to the nearly non-existent air pressure found on Mars, forced to rely on other means of transportation between long distances. Giant plodding war machines treading across the vast craggy plains was terribly inefficient but still remained a reliable way of reaching a destination. When crossing long distances or when time was critical, the PDF moved the majority of their forces onto location through the use of Chimera’s, air carriers with enormous engine capacity that could each carry a squadron of Mech armor and then drop them wherever needed without the need to land, ideal for entering combat in a contested area. A combination of heavy armor, weaponry, and generally underpowered fuel cell reactors, combined with bad flight characteristics and no air-pressure to ensure that even in the low gravity of Mars, the best most Mech armor could manage was a powered glide. Some of the larger and heavier Mech armor did not even possess wings; they would instead use their reactors at full burn while remaining in a vertical position, performing a series of jumps to cross rough terrain. The heaviest variants used the same idea, but used their powered thrust to help them achieve a form of running motion, reducing the weight of each step in the thick red dust that was near ubiquitous across Mars.
Starkindler (MechaVerse Series Book 1) Page 7
