Starkindler (MechaVerse Series Book 1)

by Jeremy Cunkle

  She saw her words hit home as he flinched backwards before sitting down on the bed, unable to stand before her fury. She pulled no punches. “You shame the gift of your friends and family by fighting in this way, by rejecting the trust they placed in you to fight in their cause. Honor them. Honor their gifts to you. Honor their faith in you. Honor their trust in you to succeed. Let your purpose empower you with the confidence of victory before you have even left Mount Olympus tomorrow. For if not, you will die. Reveal yourself in full; unleash your terrible fury, your righteous anger. Allow it be the beacon that guides you! The time for half-measures is over. The time has come take the future you have chosen for yourself, to embrace your destiny!”

  Light filled the room, and then her presence winked out of existence. He sat on the bed blinking rapidly; temporarily blind from the fierce light Aurora broadcast. Stunned, he mentally recreated everything that occurred in the last few minutes, replaying events over-and-over in his head. No explanation was forthcoming except that Aurora was quickly evolving out of his purview. He looked down, opening his hand slowly. While she spoke, he must have subconsciously pulled the locket containing the digital pictures of his parents out of the pocket within his flight suit built specifically to accommodate it. He had not looked at their pictures since arriving on Mars, too ashamed to meet their faces.

  A tear slowly rolled down his cheek as he opened the locket, smearing the image of his parents standing to either side of him just weeks before they had been taken from him. His vision went cloudy as more tears fell, choking up as he remembered the depth of his loss. Mentally he fought to push aside the pain of losing them. He knew that he needed to channel the pain into action. Experience taught him that the rage would continue to build until he found a release. Back on the SkySail, that had meant spending hours in the simulator practicing his piloting, running countless simulations of his vengeance against the PDF. Tonight, his dreams would be painted red when he finally drifted off to sleep.

  Everyone had demons, his simply manifested themselves physically. He almost pitied anyone who was unfortunate enough to meet him in battle tomorrow. Almost.

  * * * * *

  “White Tiger, what’s your status?”

  Mikkhael assumed position in Starkindler barely five miles outside of Outpost Redemption. He had spent nearly half the day skulking close to the PDF base undetected by the outposts sensors and drone patrols, relying on the hastily repaired masking abilities to make it that far undetected. Chief Engineer Thorsten wanted three more days to finish repairs on some of the internal systems, especially the leg joints, which had been severely stressed over the course of many battles. There was no time for the work to be done, though, and he overruled the Chief, proceeding with the mission. His needs were dictated by circumstances, and all he could do was cross mental fingers that everything would work out as he scanned the damage readout showing way more yellow areas throughout Starkindler then he cared for.

  “Roger, Vulcan. In position. Locked, loaded, and ready to knock, just say when.” Captain Leon Cartwright replied.

  The stolid veteran and ace pilot commanded a mixed pair of MARS squadrons. They were waiting for him to break radio silence, ordering them to attack the outpost on the far side from the main gate. The walled defenses of the base were stout, capable of holding up against direct attacks, but Aurora determined that during construction the base had been poorly laid out in that the main generator sat near the far wall. As such, the diversionary team was positioned to attack at that point with a few tricks up their sleeves..

  Mikkhael listened passively to the use of his new callsign. Drogdyn as the Intelligence Officer rightfully insisted on their use for the mission, assigning him the name Vulcan. He waited for Cartwright to finish reiterating the plan to his pair of squads one last time, using short-range direct laser communication that could not be intercepted. Xilan led the second squad, another able veteran. “Strategy is for us to breach the walls using Starkindler’s more powerful munitions we borrowed, destroy the generator, and then race back to Olympus, an angry mob of pissed off PDF armor chasing us the entire way. That will leave the outpost nearly empty outside of the automated defenses, and Mikkhael takes over from there. Strap in and saddle up ladies, it’s too late for prayers.”

  Out on the harsh terrain, few shelters were capable of permanently protecting humans from the lethal environment. The lack of breathable atmosphere, dust storms that could last months at a time, and brutal cold capable of causing hypothermia to unprotected human skin in seconds meant that a habitation dome was as well-protected as any military outpost. Without exception, energy shields shimmered excitedly on the outside of all such domes to eliminate debris of any size that might come in contact with the dome. Energy shields the size required by cities were theoretically capable of resisting anything short of a direct nuclear strike because of their ability to radiate damage from the point of impact throughout the entire shield, and then nearly instantaneously self-heal at a rate dictated by the strength of the shield generators and fusion power sources.

  Mikkhael scanned the fields of data scrolling across his HUD to pass the time. City sized construction vehicles built domes of highly translucent glass specially formulated for strength, arrayed in sheets four feet thick with layers of carbon fiber interweaved throughout. The dome structure was braced by a frame of interlocking beams made from steel and titanium alloy, accessible only through two airlocks, one main one, and one in case of emergency. Nine massive interconnected pillars placed evenly through the interior of the domed space supported the incredible weight of the center, similar to a keystone system. The pillars were partially hallowed out to provide living quarters. Because this was a military outpost, permacrete walls three stories tall were set in between the exterior energy fields and the dome, serving as additional protection in case of direct attack.

  Until now, the PDF had never had one of their outposts come under direct attack, and so never factored into their construction methods the possibility of their forces becoming bottled up inside. Mikkhael and Aurora were counting on that fact, rendering the enemies superior numbers irrelevant to any outcome, knowing that once the outpost came under attack, the inhabitants would simply sit and wait for relief from reinforcements provided by other nearby outposts or a major military base. Their overconfidence and lack of experience stemming from being on the defensive inside their strongholds was about to be used against them.

  Starkindler crouched on the lee side of one of the innumerable weathered rocky outcroppings that dotted the Tharsis Bulge, third and last remaining electromagnetic rifle set up, ready to fire down the throat of the main entrance to the outpost. Initially his task was to destroy the PDF counter-attack that would occur after Cartwright and Xilan’s squads destroyed the outpost’s power generator, bottling them up in their only exit where they would be easy prey for his rail cannon. He would then directly assault the outpost itself, eliminating everything that remained.

  Or, that was the theory anyways. He swallowed slowly, having difficulty, his mouth too dry from the adrenaline coursing through his system. Aurora noticed, adjusting the mix of drugs flowing into his system just a bit. He thought back on her words the day before. He was not sure if he was ready or not for what was about to happen. He could not explain it, but it felt to him like the incredible distance back to Earth and his friends was temporarily eliminated and he sensed somehow that, even now, they were with him, smiling with approval. He wiped his hands one last time on his pants, drying the sweat before donning a pair of thin synthetic pilot’s gloves. He placed his hands almost lightly on the control handles before replying.

  “Knock.”

  “Roger that, Crows knocking!” Came Cartwright’s instant reply.

  Aurora fed blue team information through the HUD. Xilans squadron of Furies fired on command, unleashing salvos of specially designed missiles for just this eventuality. Dozens fired in rapid succession, landing in the ground just in front of the energy sh
ields, explosively deploying nets full of hundreds of ultra-high capacity conductive spikes into the energy shields surrounding Outpost Redemption, deploying dozens of ground wires that bedded themselves into the rocky surface. Raw energy from the shields began to drain away through the conductors and into the ground at a faster pace than the outpost generator could cope with, quickly depleting shield levels.

  A second and third wave of missiles fired, smashing across a broad surface of the energy field, leeching away the PDF’s hitherto invincible protection before the outposts defenses spooled up. The second squadron of MARS units launched salvos of unguided rockets carrying a unique type of warhead. Hundreds of miniature EMPs detonated in a continuous wave, creating a broad opening in the energy field too large for the self-healing process to repair as the conductive nets continued to sap away enormous amounts of energy.

  As one, both squads of MARS units fired the largest munitions Mikkhael brought from Earth, containing the most powerful non-nuclear high explosive ever created. Dozens of the missiles slammed into the wall of the outpost, piercing through the weakened shields with ease, crumbling the permacrete wall guarding the generators to dust under their combined explosive power. Sirens wailed inside the outpost as defensive systems reacted, unable to return fire until the energy shield dropped or failed altogether.

  The squad of Justices led by the White Tiger himself moved into their next position, firing their standard issue missiles one after the other at the dome that was the only thing separating them from the now exposed power plant. The dome was no match for military weapons, relying on the permacrete wall and the energy shield for that level of protection. Glass, carbon fiber, steel, and titanium shuddered and crumbled underneath the chemical onslaught, opening a path to the generator. Additional salvoes fired one after the other striking the main generators, destroying them en masse as pent up energy released a wave of death as swift and sure as the Reaper himself, tearing apart nearby buildings with vengeful abandon. The tidal wave of explosive fury continued sweeping farther into the cracked dome, fiercely waging war against the atmosphere attempting to escape for its right to exist. Unsheltered personnel and machines were tossed aside with ease, several buildings collapsed, caught in its retreating wake before the flames flashed out of existence.

  Electricity arced in fiery showers of sparks as the generators of the main plant went up in smoke, fanned into vigorous flame by the atmospheric decompression-taking place between the higher atmosphere inside the outpost that was now venting out into the lower still terraforming atmosphere of Mars. The outpost’s shields futilely attempted to re-activate, a shimmer of electricity failing to coalesce could be seen before it decomposed and raced across every surface, turning on alerts and warnings inside the dome about the danger of static electricity mixing with live warheads.

  The backup generator needed time to spool up, unprepared to halt the sheer volume of atmosphere loss occurring. Additional warnings began to sound throughout the outpost, notifying personnel of the need for atmosphere suits and oxygen masks due to the falling oxygen content of the air and the atmosphere breech. As a side effect of the loss of pressurization, the temperature within the dome rapidly decreased, hypothermia killing many dozens of men and women on the spot who were unable to make it into shelter in time.

  Dozens of drone hangars were in the process of opening when Xilan released a high-speed miniature drone on a pre-programmed course. Blazing past the base defenses, the speedy drone dropped a half-dozen small packages that deployed small parachutes to rain down on the building housing the backup generator. With its mission completed, the drone nosedived into a nearby barracks, causing more damage and adding to the rampant confusion within the dome. Xilan then detonated the packages of falling plastic explosives, collapsing the building. Rubble bounced like hard rain off the military grey generator until an ear piercing screech of metal on metal resounded throughout the outpost, and then with a rush as the collapse gained critical mass, the building fell in on itself, entombing the screaming generator.

  Without power, under continued assault by the leeching nets and sustaining successive EMP attacks, the outpost’s shields fizzled into non-existence. As for the armored forces that made up most of the outposts combat capabilities, the partially opened doors to their hardened hangars were locked closed until such a time that a human operator could don an atmosphere suit and then manually open them the rest of the way. That left twenty minutes by Aurora’s calculations for Mikkhael to wreak havoc on anything the outpost could throw at them before the combat drones, the outpost’s primary defenses, activated. Without power for their operators to guide them until a human link was established, the defense drones were unable to activate their automatic search and destroy mode, rendering them much less potent when they arrived on scene.

  Each of the fixed defensive turrets could operate for varied amounts of time under their own power once a human arrived to operate them. Numerous treaties and failsafe’s had been established over the years after dozens of fratricide incidents occurred when unmanned weapons systems lost power and human controlled operating guidance, and then proceeded to automatically open fire on friendly forces because they lost the ability to delineate between friend and foe. Limiting the risk of fratricide was more important than making sure those defensive systems could be automated under every scenario, leaving them vulnerable to exploitation such as the removal of external power.

  Mixed teams of Fury’s and Justices targeted the now defenseless defensive turrets with everything they had remaining, eliminating as many as possible before beginning their retreat back to Mount Olympus. Mikkhael was left with guarding the airlock, muscles twitching as his instincts protested at not being in the fight. Relief came in the form of a pair of Stalker’s simultaneously cycling out of the domes airlock. They were the first PDF Mech armor to respond to the onslaught, and the pilots failed to consider the possibility of other enemies in the vicinity, instead heading straight for the attacking Rebels.

  Mikkhael dispatched them with ease using the electro-magnet rifle, firing at two thirds power for each kill, pinning their mechanized corpses against the domes still intact wall. A trio of Slayer’s exited next, forced to take turns through the airlock due to their machines size. The first two Slayer pilots exited without problems, and immediately sought cover as their pilots recognized danger. The third Slayer was stuck inside the airlock which was having difficulty balancing the different levels of atmosphere due to the dome suffering internal damage from decompression.

  Aurora swapped out the high-explosive shell with kinetic slugs, and then signaled ready once the rifles magnets charged. Back-to-back shots fired, crippling each of the ill-fated Slayers. Mikkhael took his time, chambering a pair of high-explosive rounds; he then dispatched the wounded Mech armor with ease. Hapless, forced to sit and watch its co-pilots die while stuck in the airlock, the third pilot exited with a rush once the airlock equalized. With nowhere to run or hide, entirely vulnerable to the destructive force of the massive electromagnetic rail gun, the third pilot was gunned down by a pair of missiles followed by another high explosive round, a pointless and ultimately futile death.

  The rest of the PDF personnel were responding slower than Aurora’s calculations predicted; the decompression of the dome wreaking a far greater toll then they had anticipated on the outpost’s unprepared occupants. That fact left Mikkhael with the choice of remaining in position or seizing the initiative, consciously aware that in less than thirteen minutes the hangar doors to the armored squadrons would open and the fighting would become much more intense. He was also aware that at some point the base commander would call for reinforcements once he more fully realized the danger the men and women under his command were in.

  * * * * *

  “Stop here.”

  Captain Cartwright ordered the pair of MARS squadrons to a halt at the top of one of the small ridges just outside the outpost. Their job done and munitions depleted, he began their planned retrea
t. His orders were to return to Mount Olympus now that their primary objective had been completed, but the sixth sense that was all-important to any professional soldier forced him to pause, turn around and look back.

  Together, they watched as Starkindler eliminated a heavy Strident with ease, a slug from the all-powerful electro-magnetic rifle piercing through its weak side armor. The Strident keeled over, falling onto the surface to be forgotten along with the other Mech armor previously eliminated, unsuspecting of the vengeful spirit hiding in their midst. Aurora shut down all radio communications in the local area, leaving the PDF without any coherent means of fighting back or reacting in an organized manner.

  Once the Strident was down for the count, they watched Starkindler stand, discarding the now-emptied electromagnet rifle and begin flying towards the crippled outpost under full afterburners.

  “Sir, do we assist?” Xilan asked.

  “Assist who? Even if we decided to help them, the PDF don’t stand a chance against that demon.” Captain Cartwright retorted as he increased the magnification on his HUD to watch Starkindler effortlessly carve past the outpost’s defenses.

  Nervous laughter echoed throughout the group frequency at the dark humor. Each of the pilots selected for the mission had watched countless hours of Starkindler’s kill cam footage Aurora broadcasted throughout the base at all times. They were all veteran pilots and terrified of the overwhelming superiority the Mech armor from Earth possessed on the battlefield, more than happy its pilot was fighting on their side and not against them.

  Captain Cartwright followed with further instructions, shaking his head unconsciously before realizing that the other pilots could not see him with only their line of sight radio communication lasers activated; he corrected his mistake replying with a simple, “No. We will wait. Let us bear witness to what happens.”