And then the reason for the PDF retreat became clear, all too quickly, for those few who remained alive and manning their posts, eyes glued to their weapon sights for any sign of PDF deception.
* * * * *
“Mother, Father, everyone watching from above, this is for you. Be my witnesses. I will protect them all.”
Mikkhael’s hands tightly gripped the control handles of Nemesis. A brief moment of introspection revealed that neither the fear, nor the rage that had so consumed the last five and a half years of his life were currently present. If anything, he was in a state of complete emotional void. Empty, blank, formless, able to assume whatever shape necessary in order to achieve victory.
Hearing his plea, Nemesis engaged the reactor, bringing it to full output. The power that flowed through the Mech armor encasing him was unlike anything Mikkhael had even imagined possible, to a completely different level than even Starkindler. Although relegated to a kneeling position in the middle of the airship cargo bay, Nemesis projected the feeling of assured destruction to any who opposed them, and yet they had not yet even moved. Nemesis possessed an aura so powerful that it was physically palpable. It was not haughty or boastful; it simply elicited the promise of granting sweet release to the world hereafter for any unfortunate soul that crossed their path.
The cockpit came alive in front of Mikkhael. Displays and inputs reacted to input from Nemesis itself. The HUD clearly showed the interior of the plane’s cargo bay even though there was no exterior source of light. Mikkhael looked up and around, the helmet automatically linking him to exterior cameras inset throughout the armor. The illusion was that Mikkhael could view his surroundings as if not limited by the meters of armor encasing him, able to scan his eyes everywhere and see clearly anything outside of Nemesis as if he were physically present, similar to the HMD’s used by the Omnos squad.
The close proximity of the ceiling and the nearness of the walls in the cramped cargo bay made their presence felt, leaving him feeling claustrophobic. Suddenly, Mikkhael had no idea how he was supposed to get Nemesis out of the cargo bay. Until now, he had not realized just how oversized the demonic Mech armor was, even when compared to Starkindler which was already much larger than other Mech armor.
Unconcerned by his doubts, the power that coursed through Nemesis continued to increase, shaking the airship with increasing violence as the reactor output continued climbing. On an instinctual level, Mikkhael molded with Nemesis, allowing his feelings and doubts to fade away, discarded and forgotten, understanding what needed to be done.
The airship surrounding them began to shake violently, near the point of catastrophic failure as the reactor reached full output, roaring with unmitigated power.
Mikkhael steadied his feet, tensing his calves and arched his feet as he strained against the straps holding in him place, bracing himself for the inevitable. His hands gripped the handles solidly, wrists bent and pushed downwards. He took a deep, steadying breath, holding tightly onto the emotional void as if he was swimming against high waves threatening to drown him, all while muttering a silent apology.
Again, Nemesis whispered in his ear, its voice sounding like death. Old, dry, and raspy, as if so brittle the words themselves were about to shatter, “Give me everything you have and I will take it and make it into something more. I am you, and you are me, together, we are one. Let them WITNESS!”
Everything happened in an instant. Nemesis flared its engines while simultaneously engaging full energy shields as it stood, the handle of the great katana gripped in its left hand rotating upright, effortlessly shearing through the roof of the airship. The energy shields engaged, pushing on the structurally weakened airship cabin. The cabin of the airship swelled and then instantly decompressed as the walls exploded outwards.
Nemesis was buffeted by the explosion and subsequent secondary explosions detonating throughout the hangar, but Mikkhael was rendered immune to their effects as the energy shields laughed away the modest impositions. Finally, after months of kneeling, hidden away, all but forgotten, Nemesis reared proudly to its full height, standing in the wreckage of the airship.
The roof of the hangar suffered structural failures from the destruction of the airship, meant to protect against attack from the outside but not internally. Supports and debris began to slowly fall around Nemesis as time seemed to freeze.
Nemesis and the AI were one entity, the demonic AI having long ago assimilated the mechanical chassis, possessing it and thereby assuming physical form. Nemesis overrode control of the hangar door set in the roof that lead outside, bypassing the airlock system at the end of the Launchpad. Air and debris in the hangar vented violently out into the thin atmosphere of Mars, extinguishing hundreds of small fires that had fanned into existence inside the hangar.
Mikkhael looked up as he settled Nemesis into a crouch, visualizing the tunnel above him that was carved through the roof of the mountain, extending the malevolent wings for the first time, sword pommel gripped with both hands, edge pointed straight up. No light filtered through the opening, only more darkness presented itself, promising him shelter and protection inside its cold embrace. A maelstrom of thunder and lightning raged amongst thick, tar-black smoke choking the sky above him, concealing any sign of the sun or moons swirling in the cesspool of reckless hate and wanton destruction.
For the first time, Mikkhael noticed the mountain around him groaning and heaving as if it were in great pain. The walls of the hangar were beginning to fail; soon, they would collapse. There was no time left to lose.
Mikkhael screamed into his mic, the sound of his voice amplified and broadcast on the PA. “WITNESS!” He screamed, spittle flying unchecked from his mouth.
The roar of the engines filled the hangar, almost immediately followed by the ear-splitting screech of the afterburners engaging.
The armored titan did not fly out of the hangar so much as leap hundreds of feet into the air at once. The roar of the engines echoing off the vertical exit shaft was deafening even inside the protection of the cockpit, and then they were outside amongst the chaos of battle, effortlessly climbing through the thin atmosphere.
A squad of Wasps had surrounded an automated turret near where Nemesis exited the mountain. The suddenness of its presence was so great that their operators never realized what happened next.
Mikkhael acted instinctively to the first targets that crossed his path, absolutely no hesitation in his movements. He subtly adjusted his hands and feet, shifting the pedals controlling the direction of the engines. Permanent RATOs placed on the calves, mid-thighs, and upper arms engaged, allowing for instant in-air course corrections.
The effect on his direction of flight was dramatic; it was if Nemesis pushed off something rock solid and leapt sideways in mid-air flight, so powerful was its ability to redirect its direction. Harnessing the forward momentum, Nemesis pivoted the great katana at a slanted angle and then locked it into place while surging forward, cutting through two Wasps with one swing as it rocketed past them, bifurcating both Wasps through their torsos.
Nemesis pivoted hard, engines nacelles swiveling violently in a desperate attempt to check the forward momentum. Turning the hips similar to a human during the maneuver, Mikkhael traversed the torso left, cutting through a third Wasp without any wasted effort before the drone operators could even blink. The three remaining Wasps attempted to redirect their weapons to locate their attacker, but Nemesis moved with an unholy speed, slicing them apart before they could do anything.
Ignoring the still expanding ball of fire and metal behind him, Mikkhael was still moving, continuing to gain altitude. He intercepted a pair of SkyHunters swooping in for a kill on another automated turret, attacking them from the side, slicing through their powerful armor with ease.
A Reaper saw the action and became jealous, using its incredible speed to put distance between itself and the new high-priority target before banking hard into a punishing turn that would have melted a human pilot’s organs. The powerful drones
existed to fulfill one purpose. Mech killers. They possessed such incredible potency that their use was denied by a treaty with the colony on Saturn’s moon, Titan. Any such violation of the treaty would have serious consequences for the PDF, and yet so desperate were the government forces that even Reapers were being used. For a Mech armor to face off against the Mech killing drone was essentially suicide.
An alarm blared in Nemesis’ cockpit as the Reaper fired several of its missiles directly at him. The missiles were powerful, accelerating to speeds nearly impossible for Mikkhael’s human mind to process. The missiles weaved back and forth as they streaked across the intervening space, algorithms automatically assigning each missile randomized evasive patterns in an overabundance of caution.
However, Nemesis could hardly be classified as a Mech armor, such was the difference in its capabilities when compared against its forbearers. Mikkhael turned to face the Reaper head on, engaging the RATO’s, accelerating impossibly fast as it closed the distance with the Reaper. The enormous sword led the way; tip piercing the heavens above, serrated edge turned face out.
For the first time, Mikkhael noticed the sword was a massive great katana, nearly two-thirds the full height of Nemesis, the blade was the thickness of a standard Mech armor’s wrist. Nemesis’ hands held the pommel down low, just below waist level. The serrated portion of the blade itself extended head and shoulders above Nemesis.
The Reaper’s missiles were unable to tell the difference between the blade and the Mech armor, their onboard targeting and identification algorithms having never before needed to identify a sword and were unable to compensate in the fractions of a second remaining to them. Those that did not overshoot due to the incredible speed of their target closing in detonated against the edge of the blade, their fury redirected, expending itself uselessly to either side of Nemesis. The Reaper, unable to dodge as the evolving scenario had never been anticipated, was quick to follow the missiles in meeting the finality of the massive blade head on.
The roiling ball of explosion and spent fury that were all that remained from the once might drone briefly enveloped Nemesis within its fiery inferno. The miniature nova that lit the pitch-black sky and the shockwave that erupted from the Reaper’s reactor overloading was enough for both friend and foe alike to lift their heads, searching for explanations.
In that brief instant, far above the plain and the battle stretching across it, Nemesis was revealed in all of its terrible glory, backlit from the dying rays of sunlight. Machine part gore clung to its ghastly frame in dozens of places as it stood with wings outstretched and sword held high, solitary and proud in the air above the peak of Mount Olympus. The black of its armor defied the laws governing light, seeming to absorb any nearby, twisting, defiling, and corrupting it. Anyone, friend or foe, who stared at Nemesis for more than a few seconds had to fight the urge to look away, the swirling darkness causing their stomach to turn.
Instead of a typical head shaped to accommodate sensors and mimic some sort of humanoid form, atop the demonic body sat a death mask, its face now forever cast in a permanent scream of endless torment. Two horns sprouted from the grotesque head. Holes in the horns funneled the wind, mixing with other small nuanced indentions in other parts of the armor that combined to elicit a continuous mournful cry that rose in pitch and intensity the faster Nemesis flew. It would later come to be said that Nemesis left only the souls of the dead crying out in terror and despair in its wake.
The physical size of Nemesis made the HellCat Special Forces Mech armor appear tiny and insignificant in comparison. Even the mercenary Centurion units from Earth were dwarfed in the shadow of Nemesis presence.
Mikkhael absently held the tip of the blade pointed down below him as Nemesis slowly rotated in the air above Mount Olympus, idly spinning the sword, scanning the field of battle, revealing its unholy terror for all to see. Miles above everything, Nemesis seemed to be standing on ground, judging where next to mete out ultimate punishment.
The armor shifted as if it were alive, moving slowly, the composition of the material making it nearly impossible for enemy radars to acquire as a target. Nemesis eschewed the cloaking abilities of the other Mech armor brought from Earth, instead wishing to be visible and thus feared.
Cannons were deftly hidden in each arm, featuring underslung grenade launchers. Underneath the outstretched wings were row upon row of small missiles. Sub cannons replaced the top knuckles on a human hand forming a fist. Attached to the outside of the wings lay a one handed rifle, the giant katana was clearly the weapon of choice for CQ combat.
Compared directly against Starkindler, Nemesis possessed nothing like the sheer crowd control capability of its predecessor. Nemesis existed to fulfill one function, to exact revenge, and katana in hand, excelled at its role.
Hovering in the air, looking down on the fighting taking place across the plain in front of Mount Olympus, Nemesis reeked of unbridled arrogance and aggression. With its longer-range weapons hidden from sight, katana hanging loosely from its hands, Nemesis seemed to be taunting the now weakened but still powerful armies arrayed against the StormCrows, brazenly seeking a challenger to its authority, daring anyone to cross its path.
* * * * *
General Akari stared at the view screen, silently appraising the lone figure that was the focus of the satellite feed. He saw only a single defiant Mech armor armed with an antique weapon, a weapon rendered obsolete hundreds of years previously by technology, and yet he still managed to feel the cold grip of fear from over a thousand miles away. Instinctively, he recognized that something fundamental had just changed. Some key part of his universe had just shifted, announcing in a cataclysmic way that the future held something incredibly different from the past that he knew, and yet he could not order his mind to recognize what his heart already knew.
In order to assess the capabilities of the new threat, he ordered several dozen of the remaining Wasps to converge on the solitary black armor that appeared as if half of its form shifted in and out of another dimension. Like a cluster of bees, the designated drones attacked en masse. The feed from the satellites displaying the results of the aerial dogfight were difficult to see through the pitch-black clouds covering the battlefield, but it quickly became apparent that there was another reason for the confusion.
The black Mech armor moved with incredible speed, not so much fighting against the weak but numerous drones so much as executing them. With incredible speed, seemingly unhindered by the thin Martian atmosphere and near lack of air pressure, the new target danced nimbly amongst the floundering drones. A simply flick of its wrist meant the loss of another Wasp. Without stopping for a single moment, the black blade twisted and flashed through the sky, effortlessly cutting down one drone after another.
Several analysts joined General Akari at the command console, watching as muffled flashes blinked into and out of existence around the demonic looking terrorist. They were quickly able to determine that the new target was equipped with sub-munitions, firing them almost continuously, easily swatting aside incoming missiles. As a new wave of missiles closed on the target, grenade-sized decoy shells flew outwards, emitting radar spoofing signatures that tricked many of the incoming missiles into believing they were the real target. Dozens of the missiles changed course, detonating as soon as they entered proximity of the decoy shells.
The terrorist continued maneuvering at high-speed, cutting its way through the horde of Wasps surrounding it. The oversized katana sheared through the drones that were woefully unprepared for close-quarters aerial combat. All the while, the black Mech armor continued acting with impunity. The incredibly potent energy shields surrounding the unit absorbed the damage from the few missiles that made it through the defenses, showing no signs of failing anytime soon. In a span of less than two minutes, dozens of Wasps were cut down, falling from the sky.
Seeing the indisputable result, General Akari pulled up a satellite view of the battle. As the battlefield commander, he rece
ived a personalized feed of the battle, one he was able to manipulate. He quickly zoomed in on the solitary Mech armor in the sky and changed the computer assigned default threat assessment from yellow to bright red. The change in classification immediately rippled through the PDF network, meaning that computer based algorithms on all PDF units would instantly assign the new target a greater priority while simultaneously taking measures to engage it using superior numbers. The new protocol meant that all PDF units would attempt to remain at a distance while engaging the target, thereby limiting the threat of the ancient sword.
As General Akari continued watching, additional drones arrived on scene, angrily swarming around the terrorist unit. Using their superior numbers to their full effect, their operators futilely tried to bring the demonic war machine down, or at least force it to the ground where its speed and agility could be minimized. The drone’s complete inability to influence the rapidly escalating battle reminded General Akari of only one other moment when the vast array of forces at his command were rendered hapless by a single enemy.
Nervously, he peered across the displays covering the entire wall at the far end of the C&C until he found the one that terrified him more than any other. An unconscious shudder ran down his spine as he focused on the pair of nearly identical targets whose location at all times were being tracked, only concerned with one of them in particular. In the last six months, the debilitating fear General Akari, and by extension the rest of the PDF, felt every time Starkindler was referenced had slowly begun to fade. Even though PDF High Command had mistakenly named the second unit Starkindler, the one truly known as DawnsLight, he had never fallen for the PR bullshit. Nearly six months had passed since he had finally managed to destroy Starkindler and he would never allow himself to forget that fact.
He had gone to extreme measures in order to destroy that phantom, only to see it re-appear an hour previously as if fate itself were brutally mocking his efforts. Without a doubt, there was no mistaking that it had been the real Starkindler. True to form, its first act had been to interrupt not one, but two of his clever traps that would have otherwise succeeded and greatly influenced the current flow of battle. Even so, something about its appearance had felt off with his memory. The phantom that haunted his dreams had been much more terrifyingly capable than the re-born version once again frightening him.
Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2) Page 48
