Embers After Flames, Chapter 11.5 (Patreon)

11.5

+++

The only thing that had stopped me from just outright obliterating Arquebus and Balam via orbital bombardment was the optics of that situation. It was generally rather frowned upon in the Human Sphere to be so utterly free with weapons of mass destruction, though there were always exceptions.

Doing it to the PCA was simple irony. Everybody could appreciate that.

Aside from the PCA, though, since I hadn’t wanted the reputation of the first alien life Humanity had ever encountered to have ‘very eager to use WMDs’ on the front page, that meant that I had to switch to something else.

This was not a meaningful limitation in any sense of the word.

I can’t erase them in a pair of shots? Fine.

I still had a fucking army of C-Weapons, and they’ll do the job just as well.

Sure, some people would complain about the autonomous horde of warmachines, but the Human Sphere held every voice imaginable. So long as those voices didn’t grow too many or too loud, then... well, they were free to have an opinion, but I didn’t have to care about it.

To Arquebus, I sent an entire army of C-Weapons, and all of my Firekeepers.

For Balam, I sent Raven.

Ayre went along too.

+++

“Beginning mission.” I spoke. Two different parts of the Ice Field heard me. On one side, the Arquebus Grid. On the other, the Balam Grid. “All forces are cleared to proceed.”

On one side, an army. On the other, a pair of ACs.

Raven was still using LOADER 4, but Ayre had taken a completely new machine that utilised Parts from the entire catalogue. The Head came from the CARNATION, the Core came from the EUSMILIA, the Arms from the MILLEPORA, and the Legs from the HYACINTHUS. For weaponry, she’d taken a Lightwave Blade, a multi-purpose Rifle, and then a pair of Lightwave projectors for her Back Units.

All Coral variants, of course.

She was carrying quite a bit of firepower, and even better, it was firepower that was extremely potent in the narrow, twisting corridors of a Grid. The Coral Lightwave Projectors could change directions at the drop of a hat, the Coral Lightwave Blade could hit an entire corridor, and the Rifle...

Well, it’s not called ‘multi-purpose’ for no reason.

The moment the mission was called, both of them immediately shot forwards. Ayre was only a hair slower than Raven in reaction speed, but her mech’s actual speed made up for the difference rather easily.

The first things that they met were Balam’s automated defences, both autonomous emplacements as well as AI-controlled machines. It was immediately evident that Balam had gone through quite a bit of effort fortifying the place. They had paid little attention to subtlety, only to effectiveness, rings of overlapping defensive positions set to support each other in the case of any foolish attackers coming to Balam’s stronghold.

It was an impressive effort for how little time that they’d actually been here, I’d give them that.

Unfortunately for Balam’s fortifications, the ones that they were trying to keep out were Raven and Ayre.

The first, of course, was Raven. The second had self-guiding energy missiles.

Crimson orbs flew constantly from ECHO, Ayre’s AC. Off they would go, traversing through the grid, making sharp, sudden turns that were wholly impossible for any other weapon to replicate. They would turn around corners, navigate through the gaps of the Grid’s construction, go around cover, and invariably find the absolute worst place it was possible to hit on their targets.

The only thing that could stop them was Pulse Shielding, and even then, only the kind that included full, omnidirectional protection. Anything else, and the missiles would simply move around them. For that, Ayre had two very simple answers, because both her Blade and her Rifle happened to be more than capable of puncturing any barriers.

It took barely minutes before Balam’s heavier forces started to arrive, transported throughout the Grid via its own transit systems. I was impressed by how much of it remained functional, honestly. The Grids this far north had taken much more force from the ignition of the Fires of Ibis, and a decent chunk of the Grid itself was barely standing. For the systems to remain intact even after the Fires was just downright impressive.

Regardless, the first thing that came after them was the drone MT units, both the normal and Heavy variants. As per usual for Balam, both were outfitted with very large guns, with the Heavy MTs being equipped with either autocannons or multi-shot bazookas.

Alas, they were up against 621 and Ayre, the former quickly reducing them to scrap metal with the characteristic efficiency, while the latter was definitely showing off, moving in fancy ways, engaging in simultaneous destruction of enemy units, and even arranging the explosions her weaponry generated such that the light framed the AC in as pretty a manner possible.

It seemed my little girl wanted to impress her partner. It made me glad to see, both that she’d bonded with Raven so well, and also because it gave me ammunition for all the teasing I was going to get to do later.

Midway through the MTs, Balam’s other, weirder designs started coming into play. It was, again, all unmanned units, nothing but AI controlled machines which couldn’t be called either MTs or ACs. They lacked the layout that would have gotten them classified as either, but they were a bit too advanced to be labelled under the simple title of ‘Generic Weapons’.

From quadruped units carrying only a cannon on their backs, to flying suicide drones, to a weird six legged bug looking thing with a pair of sniper cannons. All of it was an eclectic bunch of weird, random shit that Balam had developed over the last few years that they’d been on Rubicon.

Some of it even worked as intended.

None of it helped against Raven and Ayre, though.

The two punched their way through the army that came to stop their advance, until they ran out of things to kill. If Balam had been a bit more set up and had a bit of extra time and resources, they could have gotten production going, but, well...

This was older stock, now.

With the guards out of the way, the two of them approached an entrance to the Grid interior- and that was when a call went across on the open air.

“Attention people who are ruining my day!” Michigan’s voice rang out on the channel. “Raven! Other person I don’t know!”

“Is that rude or not?” Ayre commented.

“I’m taking a big guess here. You’re working on behalf of the RLF, aren’t ya? Is your boss there to talk to?”

... Huh? He wanted to talk? He’s being invaded... by Raven. And a Coral-powered AC.

Actually, you know what? That’s fair.

Alright, this ought to be interesting.

“I am here, Commander Michigan.” I addressed. “What is it?”

“Great. I’ve got a proposal for you. Just checking, but are here from the RLF, aren’t you? Got some pull or something?” He asked.

“Yes, Michigan. I have ‘some pull’.” I said. “What are you proposing?”

I heard him breathe in, bracing himself.

“This is G1 Michigan, Commander of the Balam detachment assigned to Rubicon 3.” His voice was subdued, none of his usual irreverence present at all. “ID Code C3-029 393-745-2356. I hereby invoke Article 18.D, subsection 4 of the Civilised Collective.”

You fucking what mate.

Invoking the ratified articles of war?

“Co-Commander?!” Nile’s voice went over the channel.

“Raven, Ayre, hold up for a moment. Defensive posture only.” I told the two of them, and at the same time opened up a channel to Flatwell.

I didn’t wait for him to pick up. This was more than important enough for me to interrupt whatever he was doing by just forcing the link open on both ends.

“Wha-” He began to ask, right before I played a recording of what Michigan had just said. “What?!”

“Pipe down, Nile. Trust me.” Michigan said to his second-in-command. “This is very important and I need you all to listen to me.”

I promptly skipped the recording ahead a bit, bringing Flatwell up to date with right now.

“Article 18.D concerns war between entities within the Collective.” I stated. “If I remember correctly, and I assure you that I do, Balam’s party line about their activities upon Rubicon is that they are operating with full legal authority upon a planet with no native government or polity, only a variety of corporate interests, independents, and ‘squatters’.” The Megacorps, the mercs, and the RLF, in order. “According to Balam, there is no war happening in the first place. You’re a rough sort, Michigan, but you cannot have missed that.”

Which raised the question of why he’d brought it up in the first place. What was he up to?

“I-” He said it rather bluntly. “- am the Commander of Balam’s forces. I hereby recognise that, according to the classifications of the Civilised Collective, Balam Industries has entered into an informal war against a group that qualifies as a government, and is made up of the members and descendants of the members of Rubicon 3’s rightful peoples.”

... Holy shit. I know what he’s doing. He’s going there.

Flatwell sucked in a breath, leaning forwards in his chair as his eyes fixed to the screen. “Michigan you magnificent son of a bitch, are you really...”

“As such, I wish to discuss a formal surrender.”

He’s doing it!

“What?!”

“Michigan!”

“Sir?!”

And the airwaves just lit up with all of his subordinates, absolutely fucking confused.

“Shut up and listen to me, maggots!” Michigan roared, and his voice promptly silenced them all. “Take a damned look around! The PCA just had their Sats highjacked! A few fucking thousand C-Weapons just emerged from their most fortified Watchpoint!” A lot more than a few thousand, Michigan, but you don’t have the intel to see that. “We are surrounded in every direction by the most dangerous war machines ever built, and right now, right at our front fucking door is another one, and Raven on top of it! If this becomes a battle, there’s only one way it’s going to end! You’re all going to fucking die!”

... Blunt.

“There is nothing that can be done. The only thing left now is to reduce the losses we face as much as possible. And that means surrendering.”

But not inaccurate.

“Hear him out?” I asked Flatwell.

“Hear him out.” He confirmed.

“Very well.” I said, over the channel. “You terms?”

“Full conditional surrender. All prisoners to be treated with full rights, full expectations. Transport and exile off-world to be made available with reasonable resources.” He paused, briefly. “No bullshit.”

“Accept it.” Flatwell breathed in. “This is legitimacy. We need it.”

“Do we have enough to meet the terms?” I asked, quickly.

“I will make it happen.” Flatwell stated firmly.

“... Confirmed.” I said. “In accordance, so long as your people are cooperative, they will be treated respectfully.” I let a brief chuckle echo across the line. “Which you already know. And you already know why, don’t you?”

“The legitimacy.” Michigan confirmed. “You won’t risk otherwise because you need the rest of the collective to believe you’re real.”

“Indeed.”

... If I had eyes to close at the moment.

You know what, Michigan? I can respect you.

“You know what’s next, right?” I asked.

“’Course I do!” He scoffed “Raven. Raven’s friend. Hurry up and get on down here, will you? It’s time to settle this.”

Coordinates were sent across the channel. The doors of the Grid opened, and Raven, again, went straight through them without hesitation. Ayre followed quickly.

“Balam forces!” Michigan called out. “You are hereby ordered to surrender! You will cooperate with whoever the RLF sends. You will not cause problems. If you do, I will rise out my grave and drag you back into it with me!”

“Commander?” Someone was still speaking on open comms. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s simple, Protomac!” Michigan was back to shouting. “The higher ups could contest this entire thing if I happen to be around for them to shout at! Therefore, I won’t be!”

It didn’t take very long for Raven and Ayre to make their way to the coordinates. They weren’t that far in. The area they arrived at was... mostly flat. A big old storage area, meant to hold the vast quantities of raw ore that the Mining Ships would deliver to the Grids.

“G2 Nile!” Michigan called. “You’re in charge! Make sure the maggots stay in their bins, got it?!”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Good.” He said.

And then, the machine he was piloting crashed into the room that Raven and Ayre had arrived in. It was a big, ridiculous, thing, covered in guns and armour.

A lot of fucking guns.

I recognised it, of course.

“Huh.” I said. “You stole a CATAPHRACT.” And they’d modded the shit out of it, too.

“Damned right we did!” Michigan laughed. “You didn’t think I’d make it easy, did you?! With this thing, they’ll call me Hell On Four Wheels! Now, let’s goooo!”

Boosters ignited, and the CATAPHRACT BALAM shot forwards like a rocket.