I might start introducing a few words to fit in with this story - standard English ain't always good enough for a setting several thousand years in the future! So to start with:
Ident - Generally inclusive term for all kinds of personnel.
Fresh - Newly cloned. Probably a reference to another organic produce of some kind (besides clones), lost far back in the mists of time.
*** - The call sign of an unnamed clone, where *** is the first letter of their clone name followed by the first two digits of their number (hence the clone in this story is C97 - no one would dare risk dishonouring the original human by actually calling their clones after them).
Mech - a name, and insult to ability - implying mechanic rather than machine - dating back to when the duties of warrior and engineer were considered separate, and mechanics were always held back from battle (and 'cos it will get through the filter on this page!).
Let me know if this is all a bit confusing.
Here's another new term:
Beez - adaptation of an ancient Satanic reference (now, of course, Christianity is extinct among the Arm - the idea of eternal life and an immortal soul is too closely related to the Core ideals, so there are of course, many Core Christians - and many Arm Satanists). An expression of annoyance (and another thing that will get past the filters!).
Yet more terms (yawn):
Registration - a clone's clone name and number e.g. Calhan 97-30369.
Callsign - the abbreviated version of the registration e.g. C97.
Days - if they are not specified to be relative to a planet, days or times are assumed to be measured by Empyrrean Standard Time (EMT).
Man/Women - A general term for male or female ident, that doesn't make the distinction between clones and normal humans.
Blip - A personal insult to a clone, implying that they were created badly - a blip in production, so to speak.
Puppet - Another insult, usually aimed at fresh pilots, implying that they are helpless alone in battle - needing a leader to pull their strings for them, so to speak.
This next bit is really boring, and of no relevance whatsoever I only wrote it cause I was bored, just in case in might satisfy any detail fans out there (just don't feel obliged to read or understand it - it's here for the sake of completeness):
To clarify the registration, the clone name is the name of the original human cloned. The first number is the number of times that the basic clone's genetic blueprint has been modified - after this has happened a hundred times, the new blueprint is considered to be a whole new clone, and the figure is reset to 01. The second number shows how many of the clones have been made of the type implied by the first number (So C97 was the30369th 97 model made). Once one million of one type have been made, typically their prowess is evaluated, and the one considered to be most successful (allowing for some having been alive longer), and with the most potential, is scanned into a blueprint for the next type (so the C97 type would become C98).
Hopefully, I won't need too many (or any) more of them.
Wise man say 'square brackets are easier to read than weird {} ones.' So from now on I'll put thought in [] ones instead. Oh, and for the record those bits are because that's the only way I can find to indent paragraphs on this page.
Also, unless otherwise stated, Theta squad is our little group. Technically, it's an inaccurate abbreviation, but there aren't likely to be any other Theta squads anywhere near.
One more (hopefully final) little termy thing:
Radio - (as in 'To radio'), long range communications of whatever kind. I'm sure by this time they've developed more efficient and faster travelling methods, but I'll just call them radio to avoid confusion, Ok?
I thought I'd finished with this now, but one more term I want to introduce Parking - Implying that the recipient is still at that first bewildered stage where they've just come into existence and are looking for somewhere to stand still and just get their bearings. Another insult basically, for someone who's not all there.
Okay, this is sort of another annoying term-y thing. But not.
Kali - Principle Arm deity. Lots of arms, see? And she's a bringerof destruction to the core. Once something like that has been misquoted it sets a pretty heavy ball rolling… A lower case letter becomes a capital, and it takes on a whole new meaning…
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Arm Commander Jamus recoiled as the fiery red ripples tore through the
semi-corporeal Kbot he had been nanolanthing, and while its component parts
scattered to the wind, his battlesuit shook with the impact. The smouldering,
lifeless wreckage of friend and foe alike surrounded him, shielding him
as he once again started the process. He was determined that the remaining
Storms would fall, determined that his comrades, who now - even in death
protecting him - would have died for a reason.
As the last corpse exploded under the constant barrage of enemy fire,
there was just enough time for him to finish the one Peewee he had been
building. It darted off into the ranks of the enemy, and was lost from
sight in a maelstrom of colour, as missiles from the final five Storms
hammered into the ground, pockmarking the once grassy slopes with craters.
Alone and outnumbered, in a failing battlesuit and without even enough
energy to use his lasers, Jamus himself attempted to make his way through
the molten slag that was once his 'suit's legs, in a desperate final attempt
at survival. No longer caring about the outcome of the war, he clawed at
the exit, now fused shut by the intense heat it had suffered. Groping fingers
clasped for any opening, scrabbling, frantically looking for a way out,
looking to avoid the end that must surely come soon.
Long after he realised that the battle had ended victoriously, his
hands kept searching for the exit, unable to comprehend that he was safe
once again.
Calhan Clone No.9730369 had learned faster than usual. As he came into
existence, he had somehow been aware already of his surroundings. He adapted
to the knowledge which he was fed more quickly than expected, and Jamus'
battlesuit had been able to make use of the time that was saved by this
to imbue in him a greater level of intelligence than was normally found
in someone made only to control a Peewee. As a result, when he attacked
he had been able to think on his feet. Running in at an angle, the slow
moving shots from the Storms had been unable to find him, and, though his
instincts screamed at him to keep his distance, he had gone in so close
that the Storms turned too slowly to be able to track him, all the while
firing with all the armament mounted on his relatively small bodywork.
When the dust settled, the unthinkable had happened. Five Storms -
albeit heavily damaged from the battle - had fallen before a single Peewee,
the battle for the Elysian plain had been won … and there had been born
a hero, who would eventually go down in the annals of Arm legend.
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After the battle for the plains finally ended, Jamus used the last remaining
power from his 'suit to transmit the message to the construction aircraft
patrolling nearby. Held back from the battle because of their value and
vulnerability, they now flew in to repair the only two survivors, their
pilots relaying news of their victory back home.
By the time the primitive nanothanthing systems had finished on the
Commander 'suit of Jamus, another Commander had arrived and started constructing
an Arm complex round the area. This one, like all bases on Hades, was subtly
different to standard Arm procedure. Adapted to suit the searing heat,
most structures were built partially underground, an arrangement which
allowed direct links between them, and provided better protection at the
cost of decreased fields of vision. There was also a command centre, built
entirely underground, purely as living quarters.
In the early days of fighting on this planet, the greater freedom of
movement, and closeness between soldiers and their superiors had led to
a much more informal environment than most Arm outposts. However, this
had quickly led to insubordination in the ranks, and Hades now had as rigid
a disciplinary system as any in the Arm empire. Thus when the credit for
what was now known as the Battle of Respite (battles were rarely named
after places - place names were determined only by military operations,
on this planet or the whims of the troops, and were constantly changing
because of this) went entirely to Commander Jamus, there was very little
that a single Peewee pilot could do about it. Especially one that had only
been made at the end of the battle.
Jamus himself was relatively new as a commander, and, at first, held
little respect from those under him, partly due to this, and partly because
he was seen as being emotionally weaker than most commanders - some even
went so far as to consider him a coward, though none would dare to say
it out loud. Amongst his few friends however, this quality was considered
his virtue - he possessed the human face that many leaders lacked, and
this was often enough to inspire those around him to victory, even those
who otherwise disliked him. Since the Battle of Respite - one of the biggest
Hades had seen for centuries - he had been given several assignments as
a reward for his apparent bravery. Fairly adept with the mantle of command,
he was mostly successful, though none of his tasks were too challenging.
He fought on ground which the Arm knew well, and managed to avoid any serious
danger now that it was considered an honour to die for him.
The Arm tacticians proved to be right about the value of the Elysian
Plain. Being in a natural basin it was easy to defend once taken,
and the Core realised its real wealth (largely buried underground and previously
unknown to either side) too late to stop the Arm fortifying the area. Over
the next few months, the Core forces increasingly threw themselves at what
became an increasingly impenetrable wall of laser and cannon fire. Their
losses were huge, and attacks over the rest of the planet lessened, and
were easily repulsed. They put their all into recapturing what they considered
their territory, determined that they could win it back. Sadly, the Arm
tacticians and soldiers were equally determined to hold onto it, and managed
to resist all attacks due to a series of unusual and unpredictable manoeuvres
and strategies.
In the coming months, as Core attacks finally tailed off, the Arm leaders
and strategists were greatly played for the part they had played. It was
easy, and most certainly convenient for them to forget the part that the
vital tactical suggestions that a single Peewee pilot had put forward to
help them…
Eventually, it became apparent that the Core had drained its strength almost completely in the fighting. Slowly, this realisation came to the Arm soldiers, morale raised steadily, and rumours became rife of a final push towards the heart of the Core's planetary forces. The two thousand year stalemate on Hades was about to be broken…
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Three days later, C97 was released from hospital. True to his word
(frustratingly), K35 sought him out, and took him to the leisure
section of the base, a place C97 had never really been interested in (or
technically *allowed* to visit - the Peewee stigma again - though he was
beginning to realise that most idents had no way of recognising him as
one). With another three days yet before the next wave of the attack was
to begin, alcoholic drinks were still being served, and most venues were
still open. They decided, on this occasion just to go to the 'bar' (a place
similar in style to their namesakes of old - such had been their popularity).
The only currency among the Arm troops was time. Most idents had
a "Record Card" (or R.C.) showing who they were, and their biological strengths
and weaknesses. Each individual was allotted a certain amount of leisure
time per week, which was stored on their card. For many activities this
was straightforward - time used was deducted, as it was used, from the
total time for that week (unused amounts were not carried over into the
next week). For such things as the consumption of alcohol, the total impact
it would have on each ident's overall efficiency was assessed according
to their biological data, and time was deleted from their Record Cards
accordingly (other drinks and food were free, since they were so easily
made with nanolanthing technology). The cards were, of course, not issued
to Peewee pilots, so it fell to K35 to 'buy' the drinks for both of them.
By the time they were each midway through their third drink, C97
was, for the first time in his short existence, beginning to enjoy himself.
Unfortunately, an ident also drinking at the bar chose this moment to recognise
him:
"Hey! I saw *you* in the briefing room… in the Peewee section!"
He laughed as though at some hilarious joke, that wasn't apparent to the
two watching him. Suddenly, the penny dropped. His eyes darkened, as he
hissed:
"What's one of them doing in here?" K35 turned to face him, saying,
"Come on friend, it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"No friend of any worthless weepy is any friend of mine, *blip*!"
Looking at the Zipper pilot's small build and stature, next to the huge,
well built ident facing him, C97 couldn't help but laugh. Immediately,
he knew it was a mistake.
"You finding something funny, puppet-boy?"
C97 stopped smiling. Ignoring K35's protests, he calmly walked
over to his antagonist, grabbed his drink from his hands, and, equally
calmly, tipped it over his head.
"Yeah, that's funny," he said coldly. The other looked at him
for a second.
"Yeah,…" Before C97 could react, a huge fist crashed into his
stomach, sending him flying back. He rose, unsteadily, eyeing the man with
more respect, now. His opponent, seeing his hesitation, walked towards
him. C97 was ready now. He saw the left hook coming from miles away, and
easily ducked under it, but realised too late that his enemy had planned
this, as another fist, waiting in position, slammed into his unguarded
face. C97's world turned red, as he once again fell to the floor, this
time unable to rise, aware only of the pain in his ribs, where he was being
repeatedly kicked. His aggressor backed up for a run at him, then charged,
this time aiming his kick for the head, determined to teach the insolent
little weepy a lesson. As he lay there, helpless against the onslaught,
C97 braced himself for the blow that he knew would cripple him.
All he felt was a brush of wind against his cheeks, as he saw
a flurry of movement, and suddenly his opponent was lying on the floor,
his leg broken in two places, with K35 standing over him, ready for any
further threat. The look of fear in the defeated man's eyes was the only
confirmation needed that there would be none…
As C97 struggled to get up, two spectators from the fight rushed
to help him. Shaking them off, he snarled "What do you want?" at them.
"We came to meet K35 when his the computer showed his R.C. had
just been used here," the male one said, looking uncertainly at the chaos
around him, "I'm… Chakir - my real name , and this is D48, my protégé,
I suppose…"
The woman also spoke, hesitantly:
"Yah... Er, glad to make your acquaintance, I suppose. Um - nice
day for it!"
"Who *are* you two?" C97 wanted to know
"Haven't you seen our profiles?", was the response - "We're the
new transfers to your squad…"
[Top]
C97 stood on the remains of a defeated K-bot, surveying the scene.
The battle was going badly one platoon had reached the scene, but most
of its members had been picked off on the way down the cliff. But he didn't
care. *He* had just killed a Pyro! Still panting from the effort, he checked
himself. One arm hung uselessly from its socket, but he felt no pain -
the lust of battle ran through him. A burst of superheated plasma tore
into the canyon wall beside him, the heat reaching through his suit, burning
his body. He didn't even notice. Instead, he ran straight at his attacker,
firing his remaining weapon, slicing chunks off its bodywork. It raised
its weapon again. A well aimed shot from his EMG tore straight into the
other's gun, igniting the liquid plasma tanks. C97 turned away, already
looking for other foes. Behind him he sensed the agonising pain of his
last, as it was consumed by its own flame, and he revelled in it…
Then, through the red haze he saw a mangled, almost shapeless
form in front of him. He focused for a second, and all the fire drained
from him. He recognised the blue colour of what once had been a Zipper
'suit, lying prone in front of him. He saw a Core Pyro, still burning away
at what he sensed was the man who had saved his life once before. It was
the first time anyone had ever gone so far out of their way to help him
out, and it had formed a bond between them that would never be broken.
He wasn't going to let this happen! All the rage, and the pain that he
had suppressed welled up in him, choking its way through his gut. Knowing
his 'suits armament wouldn't down the Pyro in time, he raced, heedless,
at his friend's tormentor and collided with enough force to shatter all
the stabilisers of his delicate Peewee frame. The Pyro was thrown in front
of the Hammer, who pulverised it with two rounds of its plasma cannon.
Now C97 dropped to the ground, unable to exert control over his suit, the
pain from his shrapnel-wracked body overcame him, and, as he saw the second
platoon finally charging in to join the battle, he slipped into unconsciousness.
He opened his eyes. Above him, the cliffside was charred and scorched
jet black - all the plant life had been destroyed, along with the remaining
Core forces. Plumes of smoke rose from several inert forms around him,
filling the sky with black clouds - the only kind of cloud ever seen on
this parched planet.
Abruptly, he sat up… and fell immediately back down again, his
newly 'lanthed muscles tortured from the strain. Of *course* - his body
had been shot through by metal shards - it would've had to have been almost
totally replaced. More gently this time, he pulled himself up. He still
ached through, but he had to see… Looking around him, he saw a number of
other idents he recognised from the base, but no sign of the body he was
looking for. He saw L56, unharmed but out of her K-bot. She was obviously
looking for the same thing he was, frantically sifting through the wreckage
left on the battlefield. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw survivors
of the battle still in their 'suits piling up the wreckage for it to be
reclaimed. A few flecks of blue paint still clung to one of the ruined
machines. Unable to move himself, he called out to L56,
"Hey…" She looked at him. He gestured. She saw what he was nodding
at, and ran over, yelling at the other K-bots to back off. With every joint
in his body screaming at him to rest, he forced himself off the ground,
and wearily moved over to [wait…]. So this guy had saved his life before
- right - so he owed him - okay - but this was taking it a little bit far
- he didn't *really* care about the guy, did he? He hadn't actually thought
of the stupid puppet as his *friend*, had he? It couldn't be worth this
torment!
He'd done everything he could. He allowed himself to drop to the
ground, and just lay there, gasping for air.
Lyana 56-75984 reached the still steaming 'suit of her friend -
her only real friend, ever. She climbed up onto the half-melted torso section,
ignoring the pain where she touched the scalding hot metal. Reaching the
centre, she grabbed a piece of metal jutting out, and, in desperation,
broke it off, shredding all the skin on her hands in the process. On instinct
alone, she guessed where the c0ckpit must be, and prised open the only
section which hadn't been welded together.
The inside was chaos - the room had collapsed in on itself, and
been warped beyond recognition. Using her own knowledge of the interior
of Zippers, she scrambled her way across the room to where the pilot's
seat should be. It was buried under a pile of still sparking electrical
systems. Heedless, she began throwing the machinery off, faster and faster,
not letting herself think for a second that it might be too late. And suddenly,
she saw a hand, pale and unmoving. Tears blurred her sight - she wiped
them away, but her blood mixed with them, half blinding her. Still she
tore away at the mass she could just make out in front of her.
She stopped, blinked, and more carefully now, wiped the blood
from her eyes. Kanethal was lying there, still breathing slightly. Every
few seconds, his body was wracked with a coughing fit, but they were becoming
less violent now - less frequent. She moved some more of the debris, and
saw that he was still connected to the life support system. Hope sprang
into her heart as she realised that it had kept him alive long after he
should, by rights, have faded, but it was replaced quickly by despair,
as she saw that the systems responsible for regulating pain were lying
in pieces around her - and she knew that long after he should have passed
on, he would have been feeling his body stuttering, as one by one his organs
failed, feeling himself slide out of existence, held back from the edge
only by the accursed instrument that he was connected to. Crying out loud,
she drove the spike she still held deep into the life support machine.
She wouldn't let him die now, she *couldn't*! But he had suffered enough
from that thing - it had already done its job too well. If that was all
that held him back from the brink now, then she truly was too late.
He coughed once, and she looked at him - his eyes were now open.
As softly as she could, she said to him
"I'm getting you out of here - it's over!" Blood seeped slowly
out of his mouth as he replied,
"Yeah, it's over." He coughed again, and blood sprayed everywhere,
dying his tattered uniform a crimson red.
"Don't give up yet - Jamus can heal you…" She swallowed back the
lump in her throat, but couldn't stem the flow of her tears. He smiled,
and tried to say something. No words came out, and he looked downwards
instead. She followed his gaze, and saw for the first time that from his
stomach down, the right side of his body was fused to the floor on which
he lay. She forced herself to look at his face again, and gently he shook
his head…
For a split second she thought, and knew there was nothing else
she could do with as little force as it needed, she chopped her hand down
on his throat, and he fell limp.
"Who asked your opinion, anyway?"
Gritting her teeth, she lifted up the metal spike once more, and
drove it into his abdomen, cutting as much as was possible, ripping the
rest of the way across his body, until one last bone remained in the way.
She lifted her makeshift knife once more, and plunged it deep into him,
shattering it. Now she pulled his body - minus the leg and half the hip
- off the floor, and ran, as fast as she could with her burden, not being
careful now, just trying to get him to help before he bled to death. She
reached Jamus, still in his battlesuit, and called to him:
"Quick! Kan… This soldier needs treatment *now*!" Jamus turned
to look, then turned away,
"I'm trying to help the ones that might be saved, *not* him."
Desperately she tried to think of something, anything that could make him
change his mind…
"If you want to make anything stick against Chakir, you'll need
support!" Sure enough Jamus turned around. He hadn't forgotten…
"And what'll stop the rest of the group from saying anything if
*you* don't?" She choked down all emotion but her anger and frustration.
"Me." Without a word, he lifted his right arm, and a steady stream
of tiny green particles poured out, covering the body in front of him.
Slowly, the missing sections of it began to reform, imperceptibly at first,
and gradually the particles transformed themselves into blood cells, bone
molecules, and skin fragments. They kept flowing for several seconds after
the body seemed whole again, attempting to repair the massive internal
traumas. Finally, the green haze surrounding K35 subsided, and he lay still,
pale, but breathing again. L56 couldn't wait any longer…
"WELL?" Jamus turned towards her, unhurried,
"He'll live…"
[Top]
NNNNAAAAAAAAAA!!!
The voice stopped. Its owner hurriedly retreated. He was left alone again [alone…]. It began to make sense. He wanted the voice back now, comforting him again [come back Lyana!]. A chill feeling of helplessness overtook him…
He opened his eyes again. A figure was present - a different one this time, more heavy set than the last, but less confident, and clumsier. Jamus! Everything that Lyana had told him sprang into his mind. [BAS.TARD!] He rose -
And his world imploded, his co-ordination shattered. He collapsed again.
In the days that K35 had been recovering, the rest of the squad
had received no orders on any further missions. Around them, they saw platoon
after platoon marching off to battle, sometimes returning, but more often
not. Few of them had any friends left now, except those in the squad, all
having been slaughtered by the Core.
While the rest of the squad had been relaxing and making the most
of what free time they had, Jamus had, true to his word, been fighting
for Chakir to be sentenced to death by reclamation. Chakir had watched
in amusement as Jamus had been denied at every turn. Despite his lower
ranking, he had been around for much longer than Jamus, and was content
to let him play his games. He knew enough people in enough places to be
guaranteed immunity to Jamus' little schemes. No-one would believe Jamus'
word over his.
Then L56 came into the picture…
Lyana 56-75984 had been confined to her room since her name had
come up in the investigation of Chakir, in case any 'accidents' occurred
before she could give her story. She lay on her bed, staring at the patternless
metal walls, having long since lost track of the passage of time. Suddenly
she heard the door lock click open. She looked up and saw a message on
her room's vidscreen - REPORT TO BRIEFING ROOM 3. Wearily, she rose.
Since it was en route to the briefing room (which doubled as trial
rooms on the rare occasions when they needed to), she decided to stop off
at the bar in the base's leisure section The message had said nothing
about how quickly she should arrive and besides, supporting Jamus would
be a lot harder if she was sober. Midway through her seventh drink, and
still feeling way too steady to leave, she heard a voice say
"Shouldn't you be in session right now?" She looked for the source
of the voice. It was D48.
"Probably. What do you care?"
"Oh I care, believe me. It's my friend you're trying to murder…"
was the icy reply. L56 was taken aback by this
"What… that's not fair."
"Isn't it? Want to tell me what you're trying to achieve by speaking
out against him then?"
"Look, I don't like it any more than you do-
"Hah!"
"…*but*, I gave my word OK? I didn't have any choice then, and
I don't now. So excuse me, but I've wasted enough time already…" With that,
she brushed past D48.
"You *really* don't want to do this…" L56 turned round.
"*That* almost sounded like a threat, soldier…"
"Really? Well how about that..?"
L56 decided it was time to leave - "I'll see you later," she said
coldly.
When she returned to her room, C97 was there waiting for her.
"So how'd it go?" he said. She was less than enthusiastic about
going over it *again*-
"News travels fast in this place, huh?"
"Uh, yeah, I suppose. I just wanna see Jamus made to look like
the puppet he is. Don't try and pretend you don't too."
"Whatever. Well you're in luck. It was pretty obvious nothing
I was going to say would make any difference. Chakir really does have a
*lot* of friends in high places."
"Great… look-"
"*Goodnight* then. I've got a lot of sleep to catch up on." The
door slid shut between them.
C97 stood outside for a while, trying to piece together his thoughts.
Over the last few days he had been experiencing feelings and emotions that
he hadn't known he was capable of. Beez, he hadn't even known they existed!
Seeing K35 burning at the hands of a Pyro, he had come to realise that
it really *mattered* to him whether the guy survived. Up until then, C97's
motto, his very *raison d'être* had been 'look out for number one'.
Now he was having to cope with watching other people who he cared about.
And L56 - he didn't know her so well, but he knew he was interested
in getting to know her… [*why*, though?] She was beautiful, he could see
that, but so were many women he had known. There was just… something about
her. He couldn't even put it into words to himself, never mind in front
of *her*. And what difference did it make, anyway? If current rumours about
remaining Core resistance were to be believed, they would all be dead in
a few weeks anyway… that was a sobering thought. It wasn't so much *death*
he feared, as dying before he had even worked *himself* out. Maybe K35
would help him get it together, when he recovered.
Kanethal 35-448636 woke. Lyana was there again, smiling now. Her
smile gave him strength, and he forced himself to sit up. She looked concerned
"Hey! They said you'd be coming out of your coma right about now,
but I don't think you're strong enough to exert yourself yet… You've been
out for four days," she said, answering his questioning look.
"All the more reason to make up for time lost," he said, sliding
off the bed, ignoring the alarm klaxons going in his legs. Lyana watched,
wide-eyed and gaping, as he stood, quaking from the pain his body's new,
untested muscles were putting him through, but standing nonetheless.
"All right, you've made your point. Now sit down before you kill
yourself."
"What, are you kidding? I've been doing way too much of that recently.
It's time to enjoy myself! You with me?"
"*Sit* down."
"What's with *you* today? Why're you being such a parkin' mech?"
Lyana was speechless. This wasn't like him… She was about to say
something, but he got there first
"Fine! Stay here, and look at the walls then. *I'm* gone." He
stormed past her. She stood, open mouthed, staring after him.
[Top]
[Top]
--
"Hey, don't I recognise her?"
"What..? Oh, yeah she's that Hammer pilot in our squad. Kali knows
what she's doing here. She keeps herself to herself, mostly."
"Looks like you're about to find out. She's coming our way, Kay…"
Kay seemed a suitable enough compromise between K35's less formal ways,
and C97's own inhibitions about execution. Besides, it was easier to say.
She got to them - "You're K35, right?"
"Kanethal, please," he said, smiling. [Oops] He'd forgotten what
he'd heard about her for a moment. She gave him a cold look. "Or K35 works
too… heh." [Going well so far, then.] "Can I get you a drink..?"
She looked at his companion. C97's face was perfectly solemn.
Except..! - no, perfectly solemn. He bit his cheek harder…
"And you must be..?"
--
"Er, he's C97," K35 cut in.
"Doesn't he speak for himself?" she asked. He nodded his head
"mmm-hmm…" [Bite *harder*].
"Is there a problem then?"
"Mmm-mm…" he shook his head vigorously. Then - "Excuse me…" C97
ran out of the bar area, round a corner, and collapsed into fits of laughter,
clearly audible to everyone in the entire leisure section, including the
two he had just left…
--
K35 rubbed his head. It was starting to come back - it just didn't seem quite so funny now…
--
C97 sidled back up to them. They were talking. About him. K35 looked
at him
"Hey there, chuckles. I08 was just saying that you'd get into
serious trouble if you keep acting like that around this place."
C97 started to get that sinking feeling - "So what did you tell
her?"
"That you already had," she answered for him.
"What? *That* time? Look Kay, I've told you, the guy got me by
surprise."
"By *surprise*? You tipped a drink on him! Did you expect him
to drink it?!"
"I'm warning you, Kay…" C97 was deadly serious now, and K35 realised
it.
"Okay, whatever. But someone needs to teach *you* how to fight!"
--
[Yeah, that was it… I *knew* it, I… oh, *no*…]
--
I08 spoke. "Okay, this is great people, but how about that drink
you mentioned earlier?"
"Wha'… Oh yeah, I suppose…" K35 gestured at the barman, giving
I08 an odd look.
"Just 'cause some of us are more loyal to the cause than others
it doesn't mean we can't drink. I'm not one of those religious nuts for
Kali's sake!" she said.
"Okay, fine!" [this wasn't going so badly after all.] "So what're
you doing down here then? Felt you couldn't resist our company for a moment
longer, or what?"
"Actually, your friend L56 thought I should come down and meet
you."
K35 grimaced. "So that's it?" he said coldly. "Well next time
you see the blip, you tell her I'm capable of making my *own* friends,
okay?"
"No - it wasn't like that…"
"Of course not. You were just inexplicably drawn to the poor crippled
invalid who needed your *fuc.king* guidance, right?!"
"*No*! I mean… Look, I think I should go."
"No! I said I'd get you a drink and I will." He looked at the
barman. "What's taking so long, you stupid mech?"
"You're T-ed out soldier."
"What?!"
"You are timed out. There's nothing left on your RC. No more drinks.
Understand yet?"
"I know what you mean," K35 muttered through gritted teeth, "but
I promised to get this woman a drink, and I don't plan on letting a minor
detail like that stop me. Do you get me?"
"Get outta here…" the man turned away… Reaching over the bar,
Kay grabbed his neck and smashed his face into a row of bottles. C97 who
had been watching his friend in utter amazement at the change that had
come over his friend jumped over the bar, and grabbed his hand, separating
the squeezing fingers from the other man's larynx. As soon as he was free,
the bartender spun around with a right hook, catching Kay straight in the
jaw, stunning him. Seizing his advantage, he lunged forwards, grabbing
Kay's head, and repeatedly cracking his head against the counter
in front of him.
Now trying to restrain the barman, C97 found himself thrown into
a row of shelves. Picking himself up, he saw the barman continuing to pummel
his friend, who's blood was spraying all over them. Suddenly, he lost all
control, and charged, head down and screaming into Kay's antagonist, knocking
them both to the floor.
"YOU B@STARD!" One solid cross landed…
"YOU LIKE THIS PUPPET?" A head-butt crushed his foe's nose…
"YOU WANT SOME MORE?" His knee thudded into the man's chest, shattering
his ribcage…
I08, who had been avoiding the fight up 'til now was suddenly
above him, pulling him off his adversary. "Someone help me," she called,
knowing full well it was too late… Checking the inert form at her feet,
her fears were confirmed. She spoke to C97 in a drained voice:
"You killed him… Oh beez… He was real - he was a natural born!"
His vision long since blurred over, the last thing Kanethal heard
before all sense faded were the hushed voices around the room, whispering
~…he killed him…~…the blip killed a natural born…~…he killed a *human*!
[Top]
Any ident convicted of the wilful destruction of another shall
serve a sentence of not less than 2 (two) days (EST) in a holding cell,
pending a Psychological Investigation (hereinafter referred to as the PI)
by another ident qualified to carry out said investigation.
If no evidence is produced by the Psychological Investigator
to show that the convicted is willing, able, and planning to repeat his
offence, or if it is the first time they have committed such an offence,
he or she will be released without delay, and allowed to attend to their
duties.
If such evidence is produced within four days from the commencing
of the PI, and if the offender has committed a crime of a similar nature
previously, then sentence no less lenient than minimal personality reprogramming
shall be passed at the discretion of an appointed Commander.
{Footnote - Statistics of convictions and sentencing:
Percentage of those accused who were found guilty of wilful destruction
of another clone: 67.4
Percentage of those convicted who were detained for over seven
days, or otherwise sentenced: 0.0000000000001 only one such event has
ever been recorded, in the early years of the war, when clone blueprints
were still subject to many imperfections}
Arm Command Directive List:
Hades Region
Article 1, Section B:
Any clone suspected of the murder of a natural born human shall face immediate cessation of all privileges and duties, as well as imprisonment in a secure holding cell, until such time as they are able to prove their innocence beyond reasonable doubt. Should their guilt be proved, all civil rights will be relinquished immediately, and they will be executed within 24 (twenty four) hours, Empyrrean Standard Time (hereinafter referred to as EST) by whatever method is determined by the deceased's nearest living relative. No opportunity to appeal will be given.
{Footnote - Statistics of convictions and sentencing:
Average length of imprisonment of those suspected but *not* convicted
of such a murder: Life
Percentage of murder suspects convicted: 75.7}
---
Communiqué from Hades Command Wing to Arm High Command:
Calhan clone no. 97-30369 has been imprisoned on suspicion of human-murder. Tried and convicted. Execution by acid bath to be carried out in 18 hours at 26:00. Report ends.
Reply from Arm High Command:
Negative. Execution to be delayed until further notice. Prisoner must not be incapacitated beyond repair. This message, excepting its effects, did not exist, nor will ever have existed. Any breach of this understanding will be considered grounds for execution. Transmission ends.
---
Extract from the casebook of the Calhan 97-30369 investigation:
Have received official request from the named Lieutenant clone Chakir (of Squad Theta Z4) for the pardon and release of C97. Claim: Mitigating circumstances. Request investigated and considered, but denied.
Have received official request from the named Captain (currently Acting Commander) clone Jamus (of Squad Theta Z4) for the pardon and release of C97. Claim: Assumes responsibility. Request investigated, but denied.
C97 tried for the murder of the human male Odi-Mara Leavy. Found guilty by Senior Commander Tarken. Harrimus Leavy pronounced sentence of death by continual immersion in a mildly corrosive acid bath. Sentence to be initiated in 24 hours.
Have received direct orders from Hades Command Wing: Sentence to be commuted to lifetime imprisonment due to lack of components necessary for the nanolanthing of acid.
Have received unofficial request from the ident Kanethal (of Squad Theta Z4) for the pardon and release of C97. Claim: Unknown. Request investigated and compared with previous requests, and accepted. C97 pardoned and released.
---
Elysian Fort Status report on the participants of the C97 investigation:
Name:-----------------------------Contribution:----Status:
Captain Harrimus Leavy----Sentencer---------Missing, presumed
deceased
{Notes: Disappeared without trace shortly after C97 trial}
Senior Commander Tarken--Judge----------Reassigned
{Notes: Assigned to a minor research facility in Hades' southern polar
region shortly after C97 trial}
Lieutenant Kappel-----------Casebook clerk----Missing, presumed
deceased
{Notes: Disappeared without trace shortly after C97 trial}
Sergeant Frez 16-916127------Jailer-----------Deceased
{Notes: Sentenced to death by reclamation shortly after C97 trial.
Official reasons classified}
Hades Command Wing----Intervened in ruling-------Active
{Notes: Subject to major reshuffling of high ranking personnel shortly
after C97 trial}
---
Last instructions from old Hades Command Wing:
"All records of the C97 trial to be burned and vaporised. No traces
to be left…"
[Top]
---
Kanethal walked slowly down the
corridor to his quarters, trying to piece together
his thoughts. It *was* his fault… he
needed to accept that, but how had it happened?
It wasn’t like him to lash out at someone,
however much he’d had to drink, much less
as extremely as he had. Anyway, it was
besides the point now. He needed to
convince Chakir and Jamus to help out.
Chakir should be easy enough - he got along
well with Calhan, but Jamus might be
harder to persuade. He’d have to keep a cool
and level-headed attitude all the way…
---
"Uhhh!" All the air was expelled
from Jamus in one breath as Kanethal threw him
against the wall-
"What’ve you done to me, you B@STARD!?"
Jamus, unused to confrontations
where he wasn’t clearly the most formidable
presence, was caught off guard by K35’s
outburst… "Whuh..?"
"You know what I’m talking about,
mech!" Kanethal, reaching down, grabbed
Jamus’ neck and pulled him up until
the shorter man’s feet were lifted off the ground.
nbsp "THIS!" He once again punched Jamus
into the wall, this time holding on with his
other hand. Squeezing his grip tighter,
he leaned towards his leader, until Jamus
could feel the other’s breath under
his chin. "I was never like this before. What
happened to me? I *know* you know…"
Jamus nodded, indicating downwards.
Kanethal let him drop, and Jamus fell
to his knees, clutching his throat and gasping.
"Ahhn! It was when you got caught
by that Pyro-"
"I *knew* it! What did you do..?"
He caught hold of himself.
"By the time L56 brought you to
me, you were medically dead. In itself that
didn’t…" He paused for air "…that didn’t
mean anything seious, but by the time I’d
finished repairing your body, the *rest*
of you wasn’t all there…"
"What’re you talking about?"
"Call it what you want, the soul,
the spirit - it exists, it’s part of every clone
blueprint - part of the body. What it
does after the body dies is anyone’s guess, but
there’s more to a living being than
a DNA record. Something has to animate a body
before can live, otherwise no-one would
ever die, because we could just repair their
bodies."
"Spare me the theology. Do you
have a point?"
"I told you - by the time I’d repaired
your body, your aura had started to leave it. I
managed to stop it before it *all* left,
but I had to merge the rest with the aura of
another blueprint… And I don’t know
which one - there wasn’t time to be picky…"
Kanethal was stunned. "How..? I
mean…" [get a *grip*] "Beez… You mean I’m
only half me? Or… How *MUCH*!?!" The
penny dropped… "What’s *left* of me..?"
"You don’t really want the percentage
do you? It’s still mostly you, but there’s
enough of him in there to affect your
instincts and impulses. You really *don’t* want to
know any more than that.."
Kanethal stood slack-jawed, his
anger and strength drained. Jamus took the
opportunity to pick himself up. He waved
his hand in front of K35’s glazed eyes. No
reaction. On impulse, he pulled back,
and unleashed a full haymaker punch on K35’s
jaw. K35 was flung backwards, and collapsed
on the floor, unmoving. Jamus picked
up his limp form, walked over to the
door, and dumped him unceremoniously in the
harsh metal hallway outside.
"Next time, knock *before* you
come in *my* quarters."
---
C97 waited to die. Already, he’d
tried to get it over with, first by holding onto the
electrified bars (the jailer had only
just noticed in time to deactivate them), then simply
by smashing his head against the dank
stone walls that surrounded him. He hadn’t
got far enough to do any real damage
before passing out, and his skull had been
re-lathed for him, just in case. No,
they wanted him alive and feeling every cell in his
body, as the acid tore through them...
Now, with what couldn’t be more
than six hours until it started, he lay, strapped to
a table, and mildly sedated, waiting
to die. Then Lyana walked in, and his misery was
complete. She spoke softly in his ear,
as if he was an invalid…
"Jamus and Chakir have both put
in requests for your release…"
"*Jamus*?!" he asked, drowsy, but
incredulous.
"Yeah, Kanethal spoke to him. Apparently
it worked. I haven’t seen either of them
since, but that’s what they said!"
"Doesn’t matter. It won’t make
any difference. Not now…"
She looked at him, restrained and
helpless. "No… No, you have to live in hope. It
won’t end like this. I know Kanethal
had one other trick up his sleeve. I don’t know
what it was, but you can’t give up yet!"
For the first time in what seemed
like ages, Calhan laughed. It was a cold,
humourless laugh. "Well this could be
amusing. I can’t wait," he said dryly.
"Don’t give up!"
"Well at least I get to enjoy seeing
him making an idiot of himself one last time…"
"I understand how you must feel,
but-"
"No you *don’t* understand!" He
fought against the drugs, for one final outburst.
"It should be that *puppet* who’s waiting
to get melted, not me! And he’d better hope
that whatever he’s trying to do fails,
because next time I see him, if I get the chance,
it’s gonna be to *finish* what that
bartender started. On him… *now* you
understand!"
She looked at him in horror. "You
don’t mean that," she said, without conviction…
He laughed again "Well I don’t
think you need to worry about me, ‘cause you and I
both know that *my* fate’s already sealed.
Nothing *he’ll* do will make a blind bit of
difference!"
---
Three hours later, C97 was released from custody…
[Top]
-
The remaining personnel of the Elysian Fort base sat gloomily in
one of its numerous
briefing rooms. The dim light did little to ease their tension. They
were going in. They watched
as their new base Commander, one Commander Jamus, turned and walked
out, having briefed
them, and his footsteps echoed in their heads. The news of reinforcements
coming to them from
all over Hades failed to rouse them. The base was small enough without
them having to spend
their last hours cramped and crowded by a bunch of (presumably) fresh
rookies. One by one
they rose, and filed out of the room.
C97 caught sight of L56, and ducked into the crowd, too late to
avoid her
"Calhan?" [Oh, beez!] "Hey, our whole squad’s going down to the
leisure area. You coming?
It could be the last time you get a chance…" She pulled him out of
the sanctuary of the crowd.
"I ain’t planning to die, Lee."
"Believe it or not none of us are, but the rest of us are intelligent
enough to realise we don’t
have that much control over our fate. So are you in, or not?"
C97 realised the rest of the squad, sans Jamus, were standing
behind him. Their illustrious
leader obviously had better things to do… "Look, every time I see that
bar, it seems as though
someone ends up in the med-rooms. Last time it was the morgue. I’m
not sure about you, but I
take that as a bad omen, so count me out this time, OK?"
Chakir cut in - "Who said anything about the bar this time? We’re
going somewhere
*interesting*."
C97 looked at the faces round him. L56, Chakir, D48 (he never
did find out her clone name (She wasn’t the risk taking type), I08… K35… the only one missing was
Jamus, and C97 didn’t
want to be associated with *him*. "Okay, I’m in."
-
After just a quarter of an hour of walking down the endless grey
metal corridors that looked
so alike in one part of the base as another, C97 had completely lost
track of where they were.
Only Kanethal and Chakir knew where they were going.
They came to an area which seemed run down in comparison to the
rest of the base - the
lighting was dimmer, and the metal of the walls, normally in such good
condition, seemed
somehow faded. C97 saw a door they were approaching to the left. Chakir
beckoned them
towards it, and it slid hesitantly open to reveal a darkened room lit
only by a glittering mirrorball
in the centre, and coloured beams of light tracing up and down the
floor. Music pumped away in
the background, loud enough to feel. It was the first time C97 had
ever heard any kind of it, but
he liked the sensation. There were only a few other idents in there,
all having had to come from
the briefing session, but it was obvious that more were expected. A
large man stood between
them and the rest of the room, and D48 shot Chakir a quizzical look.
"Yeah," he said over the music, "this place is pretty much members
only!"
"So how do we get in?" she called back. He turned at her and winked,
strolled up to the
doorman and took him aside for a moment, talking to him in a low voice
that didn’t reach the
others. When he had finished, the doorman walked past them, over to
the door, and stopped
another group that had just arrived. He ignored Theta squad. "Come
on then," Chakir called,
"every man for himself…"
-
They split off into groups, L56 with K35, having been reunited
quickly enough. C97 couldn’t
bring himself to go with them though - whether he it was Kanethal he
couldn’t forgive, or himself,
he wasn’t sure. Instead, he accepted Chakir’s offer to show him around
the area, leaving D48
and I08 to get acquainted.
Walking with Chakir, C97 began to realise just how well known
the man was. He knew his
way around, he seemed to be on friendly terms with every single ident
of any importance, and,
C97 noted wryly, even some of the shadier characters who were avoiding
him seemed to be
both fearful and respectful.
As they spoke - for the first time without others present, C97
realised - he began to learn
something of Chakir’s heritage. Originally created as a Zipper pilot
over a hundred years
beforehand, he had served under a Commander known as Calystra. Calystra,
it turned out, was
of the same clone blueprint as Chakir, and during their service the
blueprint had reached the
end of its designated lifespan. Eventually, it had been replaced by
Calystra’s own. When *he*
had finally been killed in action, Chakir had become the last of a
long lineage of the Uncas
clones. He had born the burden and the responsibility since then, being
the final resting place of
all the hopes and dreams, the memories and achievements of all like
him that had now passed
on. He had fought in countless battles, saved countless lives and taken
countless others. He
was the only person C97 had ever met who had travelled to different
worlds, been to and
beyond the heavens. Why wasn’t he a Commander? He had declined the
offer on more than
one occasion before, choosing instead to risk his life with all the
other troops, that he might save
one life more before relinquishing his own.
As he discovered this, knowing it to be true, C97 felt a great
wave of passion rising up inside
him. His one, overriding feeling was jealousy of this man. He knew
it was the wrong feeling - he
felt embarrassed of his jealousy, even as it swept through him, but
that did nothing to assuage it.
Here was someone who had spent a lifetime fighting for a cause he believed
in, one who could
truly say that he had made a difference to others. C97 had spent most
of his relatively short life
getting in trouble of one kind or another. He couldn’t pretend to have
made any real difference to
his cause, or those who knew him. One way or another, they would probably
have been better
off without him. If he died tomorrow, would anyone really care?
So enraptured by such thoughts was he, that it came as something
of a shock to him when
Chakir stepped in front of him and asked "What’s up with you and K35?
Aren’t you supposed to
be friends?"
C97 was caught off guard, and was in no mood for his usual aggressive
approach… "Yeah,
well the stupid mech nearly got me killed. He can draft someone else
to fight his battles from
now on." It was a half-hearted response, and they both knew it.
"Is that it?" Chakir asked. "From what I’ve seen, he’s had to
do the same for you before…"
"Yeah, but *he* wasn’t tortured for it!" He was more vehement
now.
"Look, I don’t know if you know this, but if it wasn’t for him,
you’d still be wasting away in
there, or you’d be dead. They only let you out when he requested it.
I tried to get you out, and
they didn’t listen. Even Jamus put in a request…"
"*Jamus*?" C97 asked incredulously.
"Yeah. Anyway, it must have been K35’s request that somehow tipped
the scales."
C97’s instinct got the better of him, as usual - "But how is that
possible? What’s he worth?"
[He hasn’t told you yet, then.] "You’ve got me… Just don’t throw
away your friendship if it’s
just for your stubborn pride, okay. Trust me, it’s the most important
thing - I should know - it’s
something you don’t get much of a chance at if you’re supposedly some
sort of war hero. It’s all
smiles and adulation. Even from D48, and she’s the closest thing I’ve
had to a friend in a *long*
time."
"But everyone worships you!"
"Exactly."
"Yeah, well," (C97 remembered himself) "it’s gonna take a while
before I can forgive him.
You don’t know what it was *like* in that cell."
"Oh, yes I do…" Chakir replied. "Anyway, this is the place I wanted
to show you…"
So glad was he at the change of subject, that C97 was ready to
ignore the
even-more-run-down-than-the-rest-of-the-area looks of the room they
entered. The lights had
long since broken and apparently not been replaced, the walls obviously
hadn’t been cleaned
since they had been ‘lathed, and the furniture was falling apart, quite
literally. In the corner was
a run down base-computer interface, with unusual looking machinery
jutting out. Next to it was a
standard bed, upon which sat an ident who, if ageing hadn’t been eliminated
with the invention
of cloning, C97 could have sworn in the half-light was wizened and
old. When he stood up,
however, his face was illuminated by the light coming in from the corridor,
and C97 could see he
was as fresh-faced and young looking as any clone.
"Chakir!" the man’s face brightened.
C97 walked up behind Chakir, and whispered to him, "*What are
we doing here, anyway?*"
Chakir spoke out: "Jacen, long time no see!" They shook hands.
"I’ve got a rookie here
who’s never got enough time on his hands, know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I know what you mean…" the other said. Then, to C97 - "Give
me your RC, friend."
Hesitantly, C97 obliged. Jacen took his card, inserted into the
machine, and removed it five
seconds later. Handing it back to C97 he said, "Now this’ll leech off
the records of every other
ident in the base, for as long as you’re here. As long as one person
here has some time on their
record you can spend it. Just don’t go *too* overboard, and you won’t
get noticed."
"*Doesn’t this cost anything?*" C97 whispered again to Chakir.
Chakir whispered back this time… "Does it look like this guy has
trouble getting credit?
Besides, I think he just does it to annoy all the high-rankers."
As they left the room, C97 couldn’t help laughing. "How many other
people have done that?"
he asked. The reply surprised him:
"Most of them."
"What!? How does that work?"
"Well, you know - it all just filters down to the Commanders,
and anyone who tells you
*they’re* limited by their personal records is either lying or stupid.
As long as no-one overspends
too much they can’t be bothered to do anything about it. Anyway, let’s
go. It’s time to *really*
enjoy ourselves." C97 gave him a questioning look - "Where we’re going
now, you’re gonna
need that extra credit." Chakir answered it.
-
Half an hour later the group were together again, sniffing up the white powder on the table in front of them, and laughing together, all differences forgotten. An hour after that, C97 lay with the others, a needle sticking out of his arm, and a feeling of total ecstasy flowing through his body. A lethal disease coursed through his veins, but it would easily be removed once discovered thanks to the nanolanthing technology.
-
When he woke, he couldn’t remember how he had ever been angry at Kanethal.
[Top]
-
C97 walked into the War Machine room fifteen minutes early, to
avoid the rush. The K-bots
around him towered above him even crouched as they were and with their
cockpits lowered. He
walked up to his own ‘suit. I08’s Hammer and D48’s Rocko sat either
side of it, but even these
primitive machines dwarfed his own by a good three metres. C97 looked
longingly behind him at
Jamus’ Commader ‘suit, the most formidable presence in the room. If
he tried jumping, he might
just be able to reach the top of its foot... Maybe one day he’d see
a battlefield from the height of
a similar machine…
Trying unsuccessfully to put such thoughts out of his head, he
turned back to his own
battlesuit. It was voice activated, and programmed to recognise his
voice only. He tried to take
pride in the fact that his Peewee would respond to no-one else, but
his thoughts kept going back
to that Commander suit. [That’s what lack of sleep does to you. *Focus*.]
He looked at his own
suit again. "Open," he said. A hiss of air rushing into the cockpit
betrayed the suit’s
self-controlled environment. [A bit loud. Wait…]
He turned around and saw that the canopy on Jamus’ Commander had
also opened
somehow. For a split second C97 toyed with the idea of going inside
- that’d show Jamus - but
he instantly decided against it. He didn’t know how to operate it,
and even if he had done, it
almost certainly wouldn’t respond to him. Besides, come to think of
it he would already be in
enough trouble if he was discovered to have anything to do with this.
Beez, he’d probably be
executed! He panicked for a moment "CLOSE," he shouted at the enormous
machine. Behind
him, the canopy on his own K-bot clamped back down. The Commander suit
didn’t react, sitting
obstinately open in front of him. [OK, calm down. Just get in your
own ‘suit. No-ones gonna
suspect some weepee of finding out how to bypass the systems on something
as advanced as a
Commander ‘suit!]
"Open." His cockpit opened for the second time, hissing again.
He climbed onto its seat, and
manually decreased the pressure gauge. Later on, as the ‘suit heated
up in the sun he would
have to change it again to compensate for the expanding air, but the
last thing he needed now
was *another* headache.
"Activate," he said out loud. The canopy closed over him, and
the cockpit raised up the
K-bots body, becoming it’s head. Its systems activated, although it
couldn’t move until unlocked
by a Commander…
-
All at once, the other idents started pouring into the WM room.
Some noticed the open
cockpit, but none did anything about it, all preferring to stay out
of trouble. They all climbed into
their respective K-bots. As their pilots activated them, they rose
to a standing position, humming,
and pulsing with energy.
As was his custom, Jamus came last into the room. C97 smiled wryly
to himself - it was
supposed to be a mark of trust - walking defenceless through a room
surrounded on all sides by
these metal giants. In reality, none of the pilots could so much as
leave their ‘bot, much less use
it, until Jamus himself deactivated the safety systems from the sanctuary
of his own K-bot. He
was safer in here than anywhere else in the base.
Jamus reached the row where his battlesuit was parked. Instantly
noticing the open cockpit,
he looked around, as though some ident would be cowering behind cover
somewhere. Seeing
nothing, he realised there was nothing he could do. Besides, the mission
was paramount. He
climbed in. All it took was one word, "Initiate," and his K-bot shimmered
for a second, as the
systems kicked in, the cockpit rose up the body as the machine stood
up to it’s full 30 metre
height - over twice as high as any other in the room. At the same time
the other K-bots in the
room unfroze, their systems fully enabled, the doors to the room slid
violently shut, the ceiling
slid back, and the room itself - one gigantic lift - began rising inexorably
towards the surface of
Hades.
Five minutes and three hundred metres later, the lift reached
the surface. Jamus turned
westwards and began walking. The rising sun in front of him silhouetted
his battlesuit’s figure to
the watching K-bots. Without a word the entire hundred and twenty six-strong
army turned and
strode along behind him.
-
By the time they neared Storm, Hades’ other sun had risen, and
both were blazing down
upon the metallic frames beneath them. The heat was beginning to take
its toll on the Arm
soldiers inside them, despite the life support systems operating. All
plant life above the surface
had withered, waiting until nightfall to grow back again. Looking at
the barren ground in front of
them, some idents began to think that the plants probably had the right
idea.
Finally, Jamus ordered Shadow and Swift companies to separate,
and their Shooter leaders
led them to their positions to wait for his signal. Theta squad, meanwhile,
had moved into their
own position, on the opposite side of a hill next to the enemy base.
Jamus caught up with them,
and their radios crackled into life.
"Stay focused people, it’s gonna be tough. We might not see another
battle like this for a
*long* time. You all know your orders." He was answered by a buzz,
as their weapon systems
powered up in readiness… "On three," he continued, "One… two…"
[Top]
-
#Fire at will. Make it *look* as though we’re trying to hit them#
-
The ground in front of Kanethal’s feet erupted with laser impacts.
Ducking and weaving to
avoid them, he drew back to his maximum range and returned the favour,
seeing Lyana do the
same. A beam cut into one of the GAAT’s, and its weapon flew off, still
spinning wildly. The stem
exploded, shunting the turrets of several other emplacements off target
for a second.
It was the best chance they were going to get - before the guns
could refocus, both Zippers
launched themselves forward towards the gap, with all the incredible
speed they were capable
of,. Another couple of the heavy lasers towers went up in flames. The
rest reacquired their
targets…
Suddenly, a horde of AK’s came sweeping over the rim of the crater,
swarming Kanethal and
Lyana. Most of their shots reflected off the Zippers’ armour, merely
disorienting the pilots. The
GAAT’s opened fire again, but their firing line was blocked by the
mass of AK’s in front of them.
Dozens of the small K-bots were drilled through by the lasers from
their own defences.
[Perfect!] "Lyana, fall back before they do any real damage,"
Kanethal cried over the radio.
"Right. Keep firing at them, see how many we can draw back with
us," she replied. Almost in
tandem, the two of them used their K-bots’ advanced motion circuits
to leap over the few AK’s
between then and safety. They landed awkwardly, still off balance from
the battering, but
recovered instantly, and escaped the range of the GAAT’s, easily avoiding
the few plasma bursts
exploding around them. Running towards the cover of the hills, and
the sanctuary of the rest of
the squad, Lyana looked behind her. A satisfyingly large amount of
the AK’s were chasing them.
Unbelievable! They had been sent on a *suicidal* mission, and somehow
they were actually
returning from it. Only… it didn’t make sense - *despite* what she
had been taught in habilitation,
the Core weren’t *that* stupid. Still, it didn’t matter now. They were
almost out of sight of Storm…
Once they rounded this hill… They’d ambush the AK’s… Teach the blips
a lesson in battle
tactics… Just a little further, and…
-
#Not yet… Wait until they’re out of sight… A little further, and… *Now*#
-
"*Now*!" Jamus radioed Shadow and Swift company, as the last AK
rounded the hill.
"Attack!"
Kanethal, slowing for his pursuers to catch up, ran in a direct
line now, forcing them to form a
straight column behind him to keep up. Without warning, the lead AK
saw the Zipper ahead of
him somersault forwards. Trying to fathom this flashy, but apparently
pointless manoeuvre, its
pattern didn’t at first notice the air between them appear to shimmer
slightly. Suddenly, it was
staring down the barrel of Chakir’s Shooter, now fully visible.
Whether the pattern’s advanced reactions ever registered the flash
of light, Kanethal would
never know, but when he spun round, a tiny fraction of a second after
landing from his jump, the
remains of the row of AK’s were floating away in the morning breeze…
"WOOO, YEAH!" Kay called, watching the other calmly cloak himself
again.
Lyana’s battle was less short, but equally as sweet. Jamus’ D-gun
had quickly removed any
threat from the AK’s following her. She stopped for a moment to get
her breath back, looking
around.
It occurred to her that even with the withered plantation and
battle scarred ground, the ring of
hills they were standing at the foot of was quite picturesque. The
hazy mud patterns from various
weapon impacts made it resemble an impressionist painting of old… A
sudden impulse made her
turn, to see a jet of flame shooting toward her. It burned through
her shell until… it stopped, the
source having been cut off permanently by another burst from Chakir’s
laser rifle. Having
checked that her ‘suit had suffered no serious damage, she looked back
up to thank him before
he cloaked again. But…
-
Out of the corner of his eye, Jamus saw Chakir’s laser rip through
the line of AK’s. [Great.
That mech’ll never let them forget that one.] Another blast from his
own D-gun, and the last
remaining AK fell. That was it. Swift Company should at that moment
be tearing into the
defences round the back of the base, while the Shadows would be just
finishing off those in
front. It had gone well. Now he too found time to look at the hills
around him, and…
Rounding one now was a solitary Sumo. No matter - Jamus calmly
aimed his D-gun toward
the behemoth, felt the energy surge into his arm, and f-
The air blurred and solidified in front of him in less time than
it took to blink, as Chakir sent a
laser winging its way towards the Pyro that was previously unseen by
Jamus.
Chakir’s jubilation at seeing another ravaged foe was cut short
by a blinding discharge of
light that could only have come from… he turned towards the source
of the illumination. And in
that instant he saw the glowing ball rolling towards him, almost imperceptibly
elevated off the
ground, as though it didn’t quite *fit* into the fabric of the universe.
He couldn’t move in time… he
just raised his own eyes to look at Jamus, sending one final stare
that cut deeper into the
Commander than any weapon ever could… then the sphere passed through
him and into the
Sumo, and for the tiniest increment of time he imagined that it must
have missed him - but he
saw, without eyes, that his own body was gone - and then his soul was
left to roam the universe
for eternity, without ever having had the chance to acknowledge that
it could have passed on…
D48 let out a screech that transcended sound, and all present
were strafed by her very
emotions - pain, loss… *rage*. In a physical gesture that seemed feeble
by comparison, she
swivelled on the spot, and a single missile streaked from her side
towards the only target that
mattered to her now… Though it swerved in mid-air, unable to harm something
which emitted the
signature of an Arm Commander, Jamus raised his own D-gun to retaliate.
D48 stared defiantly
down the barrel as it lit up. Her ‘suit staggered as C97’s minuscule
Peewee bounced off it, its
pilot desperately trying to save her life. She reasserted her stance
and waited for the end…
Jamus saw the Peewee charge headlong into the Rocko. He hesitated
for a second,
considering his actions. Did he really want-
C97 was shaken out of his daze by the sight of a beam cutting
into Jamus’ battlesuit. He
looked up from his fallen position, and saw another of the monsters
he had just glimpsed. Almost
as high as a Commander, and much wider, the *thing* lacked the elegance
of one, but was
plainly built for brute force. It practically had to slide along the
ground, pulling itself along with
feet that resembled iron girders more than anything. C97 had never
seen a Sumo before, but he
had been briefed on them during what little training he had received.
It made no difference.
Nothing could have prepared him for the almighty engine of destruction
sliding slowly towards
them. Almost laughing at the futility of the gesture, he raised his
own weapon, aiming at - what? It
had no chink in its armour no Achilles’ heel. Though, thinking about
it, it sort of resembled a heel
itself. [Heh. Funny how the mind works sometimes]. He fired anyway,
and watched as the shots
melted against its side… Then the entire machine in all its grandeur
dissolved into nothingness,
as the D-sphere first meant for D48 thundered through it.
This time C97 couldn’t help but laugh at the ease with which the
seemingly invincible
super-bot was suddenly *removed* from existence.
The sound died in his throat, as he saw beyond where it had been
- another like it had just
reached the brow of the hill that it had come round - another was just
coming round the foot of it,
and another round the other side. He watched as more strode out behind
them… far too many
for the squad to fight… And as the lowest ranking member, he knew his
responsibility:
"Everybody fall back! I’ll try and delay them." The rest of the
squad knew it was his place too.
No argument. The Rocko and Hammer of D48 and I08 lurched off, pushed
along by the two
Zippers as fast as they could. D48 rotated her turret back and fired
a couple of parting shots at
the nearest Sumo, but it’s thick armour easily deflected them. Jamus
had not yet moved.
"Commander!" C97 called - "*Fall back.* You can’t kill them all!"
The reply crackled, and was barely audible through the interference…
"I can’t. The ‘suits
motion systems have been welded through the floor. We’re gonna have
to fight them together…"
C97 charged up his weapon systems again. He hated Jamus with a
passion, now more than
ever - but no experience, no events could change the loathing of the
Core which was so deeply
built into all clones. The Arm couldn’t lose a Commander *now*, not
with so much at stake. In
desperation, he fired a wide spread of EMG bursts at the optical sensor
of the nearest Sumo. It
didn’t so much as slow down, targeting the only real danger to it…
Jamus lifted his left Arm to
shield from the battering he was taking, then his right lifted… The
Sumo found that its whole
lower body had disintegrated, and it collapsed to the ground burning.
The next one behind it
quickly suffered a similar fate. And the next… and the next… and… "Sir,
to your right"… five that
had tried to flank them died, all in quick succession… and three more…
and… he stopped.
"I’m out of power…" his voice was drained, emotionally as well
as physically. C97 looked at
him. He lowered his own weapons, cursing them for useless lumps of
metal. He considered
running straight into the Sumos. No good they were big enough to step
on him, and far too
sturdy to even pause from the impact. His weapons were useless. All
that was left was… his
self-destruct system.
Only his inexperience saved his life.
-
Jamus heard his weapon hiss as the coolant systems kicked in. He
knew exactly what it
meant. "I’m out of power…" Wait - his suit was still working! He could
eject the cockpit, land miles
out of range of the Sumos. The Core couldn’t do that - however their
intelligence had managed
to locate him, they might not be prepared for that. Losing such a valuable
‘suit would be a
setback, but… He stopped in mid-thought, and looked down for an instant,
seeing C97 as he too
stopped firing. Yeah. Then the Core’d turn to him. In that instant,
Jamus made a decision: to
save the life of his only living son…
He activated his battlesuit’s own self-destruct sequence one second
before C97 had the
same thought, then leaned down and concentrated the last remaining
energy his K-bot
possessed into a single D-sphere, aimed straight at the ground. The
earth and soil melted away
for over a mile before the energy dissipated. He looked back at C97.
"Get down there *now*
weepee. That’s an order."
C97 looked at him in surprise.
*THREE*. "MOVE!"
C97 stepped over the edge, and fell down the newly formed pit,
losing all control and sense
of direction. He felt his ‘suit bounce off a hard surface, and prayed
that it’s suspension would be
enough for him to survive the fall.
*TWO*. Jamus leaned over to look down the pit, wincing as he saw
C97’s Peewee spiralling
off the edges of the shaft, still falling.
*ONE*. He swayed his suit with such force that it collapsed backwards,
away from the hole. If
only it was far enough… A Sumo finally came within range, and its first
shot rolled him further
away. Its second tore off his right leg.
*Z---
-
The four remaining idents of Theta squad had ducked into a natural cave a couple of miles away, entrance facing away from the direction of the battle. The sun seemed to stretch across the sky, just for a second touching all the horizon. Then the shockwave hit, and the roof collapsed, burying them in hundreds of tonnes of rock.
-
Storm, its inhabitants, and all the valiant warriors attacking
and defending it were annihilated.
Their metal skeletons, so precious to the Arm now, were reduced to
fine dust, and scattered
throughout the planet’s atmosphere by the blast.
-
C97 was dug up twenty hours later by an Arm rescue team, alive but comatose.
-
Having freed themselves from the carnage, the rest of Theta Z4
returned to Storm, flitting
quietly through the wreckage to check for survivors. They found nothing
but a patrolling Core
C-plane, caught miles away on the very edge of the explosion. It flew
shakily over their heads,
defying their attempts to shoot it down. Seeing the black smoke billowing
from behind it, they left
the pilot to crash-land in some remote area and to die, alone.
And the four of them finally came to realise that their chance
to take Hades - to finally know
peace in their lives - had been destroyed, utterly.
-
[Top]
-
Later that day, reinforcements, including a new Commander, arrived. Having detoured
through the remains of Storm, they bought some much needed supplies of metal, and a
bedraggled-looking, but operational Peewee ‘suit. To the rest of Theta squad, when they
discovered its inhabitant, it brought a ray of hope to their lives. The dove had escaped from
Pandora’s Box, and they all made a special point of going to visit it in hospital…
C97 wasn’t at all sure he was comfortable with the wide-eyed stares that greeted him as,
after six days in a catatonic state, he awoke. But as he lay, once again bed-bound, he noticed
feelings of regret each time Lyana left his side, and feelings of anticipation each time she was
due to return. He felt similarly about the others, especially Kay, but with Lyana it was…
different. Each time he saw her, he felt a strength - a power inside himself that he was unused
to, yet at the same time she conjured feelings of helplessness, and inferiority. He also realised
that she always came in with Kay, and this realisation in its turn stirred up a passion of envy
and frustration towards his friend. The last thing he wanted was for Lyana to see him all but
crippled while Kanethal walked around freely. It would be so much easier if things were the
other way ar… *stop*. As much as he could hate him, they were still friends. He’d be fighting
fit again soon enough anyway - nanotechnology saw to that. Then… then he could *ask* Kay
what went on between him and Lyana, with an open enough question that he couldn’t possibly
suspect anything…
-
"Kay…"
"Yeah?"
"What exactly’s going on with you and Lyana?
"You like her do you?" He grinned.
"Um… no - I just… yeah, a bit." Oops. "…I suppose," he added hastily.
"Cal, she’s my best friend. We went through habilitation together. I’m the closest thing
she’s ever had to a brother, but there’s nothing going on between us. You want her? Good
luck to you my friend."
"Hey, hold on. I don’t even know if…"
"Of course you do!"
Beez, he could be so annoying at times! C97 got up from the chair in K35’s quarters and
walked over to the door. As it opened, he turned back. "Kay," he said, half jokingly. "If you ever
breathe a word of this to her…"
"I promise," Kanethal laughed, "not a word of this will ever leave this room." C97 nodded,
and stepped through the door. It slid shut behind him. "… much."
-
As C97 walked slowly back through the winding metal corridors, he began to notice an
unusually large proportion of people’s attention focused on him. Though (because?) he
completely failed to pin anyone down into making eye contact with him, it became a bit too
convenient that *every* ident he passed was looking in the opposite direction. Finally, with his
usual restraint and grace, he grabbed a woman who had strayed a bit too close to him.
Pausing for a split second to check that no-one else was around, he swung a punch at her,
knocking her violently to the floor. Mildly surprised at the lack of resistance (he had half
expected *himself* to be lying on the floor, dazed, by now), he viciously kicked at her as she
tried to get up.
"Okay blip, tell me what I’ve done this time… No you don’t -" he kicked again as she tried
to raise herself to a sitting position. She slumped again, and he stepped on her chest,
crushing the air from her lungs.
"Done?" she gasped. Momentarily surprised, he lifted his foot slightly, releasing the
pressure. She choked in air…
"Why is everyone staring at me?" he said through gritted teeth. Even as she coughed, a
flicker of a smile crossed her face…
"You don’t know? You’re all heroes now! Everyone knows how Theta squad destroyed
Storm." A puzzled look spread across C97’s face. She must have seen it, because she gave
him an odd look before continuing; "I mean - we know all about the battle. It was a complete
success thanks to you. We’ve even seen tapes of it."
"Tapes?"
"Yeah, they show the whole thing - how those two Zippers pilots ploughed straight through
their defences, and the battalion following behind them…"
"Whuh..?"
"Shame they got wiped out, but for the advance party to survive is amazing! You’ve
become legends, for Kali’s sake! You just seemed to skim over the surface of the base.
Everyone’s calling you Theta squad the Storm Dancers now."
"Storm Dancers? We didn’t… I mean…" [Oh, beez] He was starting to get the picture. And
so was she:
"You don’t actually *know* what I’m talking about, do you? What’s going on here?!" She
started to compose herself, having recovered her breath. C97 looked around quickly - still
no-one in sight - and stamped down on the ident’s neck before she could react. The cracking
sound reached his ears, but didn’t penetrate his thoughts. [What *is* going on?] This was no
randomly exaggerated tale. She’d seen *tapes*?! They must have been edited, but why?
He looked down at the body lying below him, shrugging to himself. There was no sense in
wasting a perfectly good rumour, especially with their own naming ceremony supposedly
coming up sometime in the few days… He started to walk off, then turned around, hesitating.
He nodded to himself, and kicked the corpse over to the side of the corridor. There. It wouldn’t
get in people’s way now.
[Top]
-
Report from Elysian Command Sector to Hades Command Wing:
Squad Theta Z4 achieved named status.
Additional:
A CO is required for the group, but it is the Peewee pilot who has the highest kill tally.
Please advise.
Response from Hades Command Wing:
Appoint the Peewee.
Additional:
Whole group are to be given Level 2 clearance, and assigned new units as such.
Response from Elysian Command Sector:
Please confirm - a *Peewee* pilot to lead the squad?
Response from Hades Command Wing:
Affirmative. And to be given a Level 2 ‘suit.
Additional:
A replacement for you is on the way one who is capable both of hearing *and* of acting
on rudimentary orders. Have yourself reclaimed or destroyed within 20 minutes of now, and
we may still allot you an honourable funeral ceremony. You may inform your next of kin before
doing so, if you wish.
Response from Elysian Command Sector:
1st Report from Acting Communications Officer Eral: Comms. Officer Billent has gone
AWOL. His logs imply instructions from Hades Command Wing concerning the promotion of a
*Peewee* pilot to Squad Leader? Please confirm.
(numerous Comms. Officers later…)
Communique from Elysian Command Sector:
This is Base Commander Linnott, requesting the transfer of a new Communications
Officer, due to a number of unexplained disappearances. The tech boys are working on it, but
their best guess now is some sort of new Core weapon transmitted by sound or radio waves.
Please advise.
Additional:
Something in their files about the promotion of the clone Calhan 97-30369 to Squad
Leader. Apparently the previous Comms. Officerss didn’t realise he was just a Peewee pilot.
Please specify an alternative.
Response from Hades Command Wing (delivered by hand from a lone Weasel pilot):
No.
Additional: Due to the magnanimity of our Supreme Command, you have been alloted the
energy from Solar Collector 16-161015 for a 24 hour duration. Use it to replace your missing
Comms Officers. Until they come out of habilitation, here’s one we made earlier…
-
"Calhan 97-30369." He stood, cautiously. Surely this wasn’t something going *right* for a
change?! Carefully checking the ceiling to make sure it wasn’t about to cave in, he stepped
forwards. Nothing exploded. Holding his breath, he walked up to the lectern, and shook his
head when the little man wearily asked for his RC. [That’s the cue then…] He examined the
walls, but no sniper rifles protruded from any. He nodded cautiously as he was told that he
had been assigned the name Loen, and carefully watched his back as he returned to the
sloping bench. He ignored the beady eyes that bore through his back, as they were surely the
least of his problems right now…
He almost jumped out of his skin as the bench’s other stand broke when he sat on it,
bringing the five of them crashing to the floor. They sat there awkwardly, each trying to find a
position that would allow them to retain some shred of dignity, each failing miserably.
K35 gladly stood up as his name was called, and walked forward.
"Give me your Record Card." He produced one, much to the surprise of the others. He
looked back at the others, shrugging resignedly as he did so. He couldn’t stop them from
finding out now:
"Kanethal 35-448636 you chose, for reasons that none of us can fathom, to join the ranks
of these clones, calling yourself ‘Sub-citizen.’ Now that you have reached your naming
ceremony, you have been reassigned the name given you by your birth-parents. You are now
Kane, or ‘citizen’ in the old tongues, and it is now a capital offence for any of the nameless to
call you otherwise. Please be seated."
The others stared in awe at him, as he gave them an uncomfortable look, and shuffled
aside uneasily as he took his place beside them once again…
[Top]