by G Aliaksei C
“Trial and error. Inna stepped into it. There’s another one just outside the west wall. We are combing the base for more, but, well, we should really invest into an Aegis Generator.”
“I assume that will help with the… Anomalies?”
“Indeed. They are expensive, but in a Class 8 zone, with its rate of Anomaly generation, we won’t last long.”
“I’ll get one shipped in as soon as possible.”
By the time I got home the important faces of Vazanklav were gathered around the dining table. David looked utterly miserable, seeming unsure of his purpose in life. Inna, Rarus and Mr. Ember were loudly discussing over the table, while Jim and Ranger Nemisar quietly talked about something at the back of the room.
At my entry everyone went silent, sensing my bad mood and the seriousness of the meeting. I sat down on the free chair next to Inna, and leaned towards her.
“Inna,” I whispered. “How are you shipping out the Firebolters in this weather?”
“I am having the Mailing Driver fire packages straight up. A transport is collecting them in space, and dropping them off at random Gates,” she whispered back.
“Well done.” With that I shifted back and opened a notepad, signaling the start of the meeting.
“Fort, record please.”
“Confirmed, Mr. Frost.”
I exhaled, gathering my thoughts. “Mr. Nemisar, you’re up first. What do you and yours want with me and mine?”
“First, I would like to know about this new Hotzone. A truly interesting development! If news breaks out that you are out here, there will be a sensation. We have been trying to establish a Class 6 location for years now, to no avail.”
“We only spotted it yesterday. If we find out something concerning the Union, we will notify you.”
The Ranger looked like he was going to stand up, but changed his mind. Leaning forward he opened his Menu and sent me a document.
“This is the standard agreement we offer all independent towns.” As he talked I sent a copy to Inna, Rarus, Jim and Fort, “In short, we mark this fortress as a ‘safe’ location, listing you as a traveler-welcoming outpost and offering military and financial aid if you find yourself in trouble. In return you must abide by a set of basic codes, such as offering guests safety as long as they follow your rules. You will also have to send military aid if any other Union locations within your area of influence request it.”
“We have agreements with the locals, the Raiders. Will this be an issue to your Union?”
“No, Mr. Frost. Many have such agreements, but as long as they are not used to harm the other party, they are permitted.”
The age-old issue, stand alone or join the alliance.
I looked at my side of the assembly, getting three nods and a “looks fine” from Fort.
“I will make the initial rule set for Vazanklav, subject to change, by evening. Otherwise, this all sounds good.” I chose not to mention a greedy government hunting us, deciding to exploit the agreement if a direct assault actually happened against us.
“I have also taken the liberty of composing, redacting and submitting two applications to the Archives, for the Hacksaw and Shield Strider, in Vazanklav’s name. The Lady of War offered a corpse from storage, so you can expect a large reward for the information and proof in a few weeks.”
“Thank you for your help, Mr. Nemisar.”
“There is a minor point that I would like clarification on. What kind of organization is Vazanklav?”
I frowned. “You mean what structure it’s run by?”
“Indeed.”
The question gave me pause. “I want to say that we are some sort of Corporation, but I don’t really pay my people…”
“A government, then?”
“Certainly not. More of a mutual defense effort. We get each other whatever we need. No money is exchanged, and I definitely don’t have any illusions about being able to boss my people around. We didn’t even have laws or rules until now.”
“A house then?”
“As in, a royal house? I don’t think so.”
But Inna grabbed onto the idea. “A ‘house’ is, perhaps, the closest estimation of how this place is run. We all work for one-another’s benefit, without exchanging money.”
Mr. Nemisar tapped at his Menu, looking thoughtful. “House of Vazanklav, then.”
“Wait,” I sat straight. “What are you doing?”
“Committing your profile into the registry. You would need to wait a few weeks for the Union to get back to you if you did this remotely, but I see no reason not to get this over with now.”
“I… appreciate you lightening our workload.” Reaching into my coat pocket I slid a small box across the table. “A gift. For the incident with the Raiders.”
The Ranger stopped typing and opened the plastic container, pulling out one of the thirty rounds packaged there.
“Don’t fire at anything you don’t intend to pulverize.”
Standing, we ceremoniously shook hands. The handshake felt distant through my metal limb, far less unpleasant that the physical contact usually was.
“Now I must ask you to leave, so we may discuss more private matters.” The Ranger nodded and stepped out.
“You too, Jim,” I added coldly, suppressing my sadness. Noting astonished looks from the others, I explained, “Since your contract runs out within days, the unfolding events no longer concern you. I will have a heavy Black rifle and several crates of Black ammunition, as well as patches of distinguishment ready by tomorrow.”
The low-Class mech was easy to repair and improve in the time I had, despite the scale of the project. I repurposed all my fabricators to produce replacement parts, and even managed to raise Jim’s Class. The Jim now glowed with the snow-white gleam of Energy Durasteel. He rose up, vacating his corner and leaving after the Ranger.
We watched him leave, feeling as if some part of our fortress was breaking away.
Without even bothering to sit down or pause, I looked at the Innkeeper.
“Inna, I would like to properly hire you.”
The woman frowned for a time, then looked up at me and smiled. “Sure. Sounds like an interesting job.”
“Oh excellent.” I sat down in relief. “You’re in charge.”
“Of what?”
“Everything. You’re the boss. Manage Vazanklav as you see fit. Do what you think is best for us. A proper rank, I think, is General, since you will also be managing our teams.”
“What teams!” asked the meeting in a choir.
“Give me a second. Inna, train Fort as your direct assistant. Sylvester, you are going to be the leader for the first team. I need the three of you to come up with team composition. Present the list to me, preferably for several teams, preferably not just for defense, and preferably with either name recommendations or requirements for each position.” Not letting them speak, I switched to the Inson. “Rarus, I need you to head back out to modern civilization and start sending people here, according to the list our experts come up with.
“I want to make my objectives very clear now. I want a well-funded, supplied, secure environment to work in. My work will buy this same security and resources. But I am not a manager or leader, so I need you to manage yourselves. Our objectives are simple - we must not fall.
I inhaled, putting together a final few words. “The defining feature of life is its ability to adapt, rather than die. We will be doing this now - adapting to life in a Class 8 Zone. You all know more than me about how to achieve that, so work to figure out how we are going to do that.”
“First,” said Inna, “I want to know if you could make more Energy Durasteel and floating armor, and if you could make it in higher quality if given more Durasteel. They have given you, a Class 3, unit survivability against a Class 8 Beast. We are all going to need such equipment if we wish to survive against the Hacksaw more often.”
“Absolutely. However, Flight Armor requires an internal suit system for anch
orage. The Energy Durasteel will also have to replace existing armor, unless you want to be severely overweight.”
“You mean you would have to tinker with our armor?”
“The outer layer will have to go. Any Runes or electronics you have inside the actual armor plates will have to be remade.”
“Can you do it?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to try and figure it out, but that may take time.”
Inna considered, and David spoke up in her place. “I am willing to offer up my primary suit for a trial. It’s a Class 7, but it should make for a good foundation for everyone else’s Class 8 and 9 suits.”
“Thanks David, I’ll do my best.”
I leaned back, enjoying the quiet before the storm. Inna took over in the silence, asking for ideas for team composition. As the discussion heated up, I motioned David to come over to me. The misplaced guy, looking quite concerned, stumbled over. I took him aside, away from the noise of the four bickering beings.
“I want you in my lab tomorrow morning. Bring something to read. I need your expertise.”
“Of course Mr. Frost.”
The excited man rushed away, and I sat back down at the arguing table, quietly composing a list of rules to present the Ranger.
Gray rolled up to me on the table. I patted the Marbot on the top as he watched the crowded meeting with his two little eyes. The creature vibrated with the table as another wave of explosions rolled over Vazanklav’s Comfort Dome.
1 : Hell Knocking
Day 78
A long time ago, if my particular condition permits me such terms, I witnessed the use of the most elegant weapon I had ever seen. It was absurd, unreasonable, yet amazing. It was Dread, a sentient tool of war that constantly evolved and adapted, maintaining itself as one of the most powerful weapons ever created, second only to its creator and wielder. Reading the description of Dread would be like reading about angels from old Earth religions - shapeless, terrifying, powerful, and beyond Human comprehension and words.
Since then I aspired to create something of my own that could compete with that weapon, despite the impossibility of the challenge. I could now, however, realistically accomplish the same level of majesty over anything on the Rings, given enough time and resources. I simply said time and resources.
Immortality and a private fortress in the middle of hell would have to do.
After that first fight I was sipping water from a straw as I sat at my workbench, using the functional arm to poke away at the Enchanter’s mystery sphere. I had actually figured out what the unexpected gift did, and was quite impressed.
Whoever the Enchanter was, they were brilliant.
The sphere was a matrix of three different, intertwined Runes. That was an incredible accomplishment, since every source I consulted said that only one Rune could occupy the same object.
When compared to the Runes on the villager’s armor, the complexity of the sphere’s engravings became obvious. It was as if a child was responsible for every Rune ever made on the Rings, drawing imitations of words and pictures, shakily and unprofessionally copying someone else’s work. The Enchanter’s work, in comparison, was art. A distinct, precise, organized matrix of engravings covered every centimeter of the sphere, and in the endless patterns I began to see a system. The three intertwined Runes were like layers on a circuit board, optimized and perfectly merged into a single enigmatic engine.
And suddenly, I realized what I was looking at. It wasn’t art, not some random mass of patterns that performed their mysterious task - it was code, instructions, circuit lines and components that worked together to achieve a single, united result. Looking at the Runes on the villager’s armor piece laying next to the sphere, I began to comprehend the full extent of its simplicity.
It was as if someone learned the words, but not how to use them. In simplified terms, the scribbles on the armor were saying ‘reinforce this material’ in some broken, misused language. The Enchanter’s Runes, however, were complex, precise, distinct instructions: diameter, thickness, material composition, reinforcement factor, power distribution grid, reactive elements to damage, integrated shielding patterns, points of resistance.
The first was a durability Rune, which seemed to harden the very material it was engraved on. I had such Runes on my armor, though much weaker than what the Enchanter managed. The sphere’s engravings could react to different damage and focus power on points of impact.
The second Rune was a for shielding. A power port on the inside of the sphere allowed the shield to be turned on. The optimized shape and distribution of the projection Runes allowed for an incredibly powerful deflector.
The third was a gravity Rune. Such were used on the legs of spider-tanks and on climbing boots. They gave the object control over the vector of gravity affecting it, allowing for vertical climbing. The Enchanter’s Runes, however, did something far more interesting. With proper power application I had the sphere floating over my desk, anchored only by a weave of cables. I had only barely managed that effect with my Flying Armor, reserving to anchoring the plates to my suit and it, in turn, to the ground. This sphere could move independently.
It was a flying, shielded, armored shell.
I looked at Gray as he rolled up to my chair, hopped on, and then launched onto the table. He carefully bumped the tools he moved back in place, and then looked at me.
The Marbot was very intelligent. He looked at the sphere, then at me.
The Hacksaw attacked again two days later. Their strategy was unchanged, and equally effective against our defenses. The RAM-Ds could not pierce the Shield Strider as it walked up to our Comfort Dome, allowing the Hacksaw riding it to engage at close range.
We had examined the corpses of the Hacksaw from the first attack, and had a good idea of what we were up against. The villagers, armed with knowledge of their new enemy, effectively butchered the Class 8 Beasts while I bombed the Shield Strider with another antimatter charge.
Our new Defender was magnificent, never engaging in actual fighting but allowing the Villagers, Rarus and me to fight in the storm, and giving us an edge of speed and strength over the Hacksaw. The raw flood of tactical information heaved upon me was almost prophetic, allowing me to see not only what the enemy was doing, but what they were going to do in the near future. Sylvester also somehow amplified our deflectors, and the Hacksaw found their golden beams ineffective against anyone but me and Rarus.
I found myself tearing away at a damaged Hacksaw, pushed back but surviving against its incredible speed and strength. For ten solid seconds I dodged and struck back until a blade lobbed my cybernetic arm off, effortlessly cutting through the Class 4 armor and the exhausted deflector. Someone took over, giving me time to cover my arm with my body before the next wave of the firestorm washed over, blowing me and my limb into the Comfort Dome.
But this time, the Hacksaw did not fight to the last. When the Shield Strider was blown apart by my attack several of them scattered, rushing away from Vazanklav, trying to get lost in the floating mountains now scattered about the valley. Inna and several of the villagers pursued, to little effect. One of the enemies had gotten away.
That gnawed away at me, and drove me to work harder. I wondered if that last Hacksaw could report on us, and somehow help the Beasts with a more successful assault.
The next day, I got my answer.
At first, it seemed like a repeat of the first and second attack. The Shield Strider closed in, unphased by the RAM-D’s efforts to stop it. The Hacksaw teleported at us, and the villagers countered.
Inna, who usually took on two or three of the Beasts at once, found herself in a duel with a particularly disgruntled Hacksaw. It seemed to hold its own against the Lady of War, an effort I thought to be impossible.
But Inna’s fight was of no concern to me. I charged through the fight, leaping through the Shield Strider’s own shield dome, dodging angrily stomping, tr
ee-like legs. Removing the antimatter bomb from my belt, I flung it up at the creature’s torso.
The bomb now resembled an armored brick with thrusters. Miniature matter-antimatter explosions guided the weapon up, towards its target. I fled the scene, anticipating the horrific blast.
On impact the containment vessel breached, spilling its deadly contents. The Shield-Strider’s deflector was filled with fire, turning its defense into a furnace, eventually cracking from the pressure.
The wave of fire had just washed over, deflected from me by a wall of Flying Armor. The hot plates shifted behind cool ones, minimizing exposure and ensuring every sheet survived. The force of the impact, channeled through the anchor in my suit, was sunk into the ground below.
As soon as the wind and fire lessened I got up. The villagers and Beasts were already fighting again.
“Someone needs to share!” I yelled.
A Hacksaw immediately came flying across the battlefield, crash-landing near me. It immediately got up, rotating madly in search of a new target.
My Fall Coefficient flared in anticipation. The Beast sensed my glare, turning to face me.
I raised my Chini, sending a continuous stream of light into the Beast. It shifted with its crazy Slipstream-assisted speed, dodging the stream as my gun corrected. This Hacksaw seemed battered but more functional than the last two I had faced, and in that moment the Class 8 Beast seemed unconquerable to my Class 4 equipment. Just as the Shade outmatched me months ago, and just as the Nova outmatched me later, this monster outmatched me now.
Within seconds it was on me. The Flying Armor intercepted several of its limbs, stopping the sharp spear-like appendages short of killing me. I leaned in, stabbing at its gut. The attack forced it to leap up, using the floating plates as a step in its retreat.
A sonic boom shook the battlefield as something went from hypersonic to nothing over the Hacksaw, just within its deflector. My armor formed a wall before me. Repeated blasts slammed against it from the other side, and it parted once more. The Hacksaw was still flying, but its back was a smoking fireball. My Chini was up, and I fired up, aiming for the exposed core. It twisted and weaved, but several antimatter particles hit, and limbs went flying across the battlefield.
