Chapter Fifty-Nine

I cursed, cutting the link. For Marcial to be able to route the knock alone, he had to be in the suit’s architecture, and that could only be done one of two ways.

Engineering plug when the suit was undergoing maintenance, or by full access.

The fucker was in full control of the suit, and for that to happen? The operator was almost certainly dead, a meat puppet bouncing around inside a suit that was on full AI guidance.

I jerked as a fresh prompt popped up, overlaying the middle of my goddamn vision.

Spinal Tap Assessed : Second tier congruent processing points are available. Assessing third tier congruent processing points.

I cursed, banishing the fucker then cursed again as a hit slammed into my shield, followed by three more before I could get the momentum going right again.

I glanced at the shield.

Shield Strength : 47%

Armor Integrity : 68%

I’d managed to get the armor integrity back up into the eighties before setting off, so that I’d lost a quarter of it, and over half my shield strength already? That wasn’t happy-making.

The massive door behind the convoy main vehicle started to slowly open again, and I picked up speed, knowing that if I didn’t get into cover in the next few seconds I was fucked.

Blue would shoot the shit out of me, I knew, it just made sense, how likely was it that I was there to help after all? No, he’d see his ‘people’ firing on me, and…

A second APS with the identifiable line of blue stepped out from behind the transport as well, swiveling and stepping robotically as the AI learned to move his body, the gun rising, locking onto me…

I kept dodging, right, left, jumping up, dropping to a knee and triggering the jets, but the closer I came the less time I had to react to them, and the less time they needed to predict my motion, even as cluster bomb canisters rained down and railgun round shattered off the shield, too fast to dodge reliably.

I started getting hit, over and over, by the rifles now and then Blue Three stepped through into the passage, and opened fire.

The plasma cannon rounds traced my path, hanging in the air longer than any other form of ammunition, and limiting my options horrifically.

The closer I got to the left hand side of the passage as I saw it—right for them—the less they had to adjust their fire, but if I tried to dodge backwards? I was throwing myself into heavy plasma fire.

I was fast, fuck I was fast, I’d never moved this fast in a suit before, not even close, it was like a dream of power, a single thought, a twitch and I was doing it, no longer ‘controlling’ the suit, I was the suit, literally a split second out from perfect synchronicity, and still it wasn’t enough.

The bullets hit me at almost the same time as the first plasma shot, my shields whiting out, then collapsing as I threw myself forward, bouncing over and over, paint and remnants of the stealth suits bursting alight.

“Cease fire!” Blue One ordered. “Cease fire, that’s the last of them!”

I got a fresh knock from him and a split second communication, then he was gone.

“Play dead.”

That was all he said, and I forced myself to bounce and roll, coming to a halt in a screech of metal dragging across stone.

I lay there, facedown, wreathed in flames that were eating away at my limited coverings, the suit’s shield trying—and failing—to reboot before I killed it.

Then that was it, I laid there, blocked from the world by swirling flames and smoke, smoldering fabrics and next-gen plastics, frantically focusing on my ears, trying to pick up something, anything , over the sound of crackling flames.

When I did, finally?

It was gunfire and fucking screaming.

I snarled and popped into a push-up position, then to my knees and I was running before I’d seen what the hell awaited me.

If I’d seen it before, I might have fucking stayed down.

Three of the Blue team were facing their friends, guns raised as they fired. Blue Three, the most dangerous of them as the team ‘heavy’, was already on the floor, shuddering as the AROC was deployed against him, screaming in agony as he was literally cooked alive, in his own suit.

Blue One was dragging his rifle up, even as he was staggering back under the coordinated fire of his former friends, and Blue Six?

The team sniper, the only other one with a weapon that could take down APS at range?

He was struggling in the hands of a new suit.

It was bigger, four meters to our three, and fuck it was terrifying, an image not helped as it literally tore Six’s right arm free and threw the limb aside, the laughter of a familiar voice filling the passage.

“Oh my yes!” Major Marcial barked, before spinning and slamming the broken form of Blue Six into Jon, Blue One.

All the other suits cut off their coordinated barrage instantly, as a handful of soldiers moved into sight, dragging the AROC around to line up on the battered suits, as Blue Three collapsed to the floor and lay still.

They turned as one, the AI controlled suits, But I was inside their guard now.

I dragged my plasma sword around and slashed it downwards, carving through the barrel of the nearest gun—unaware until then that I’d even drawn it, acting on full instinct as I screamed in rage for my fallen brothers, opening fire on the AROC itself.

It was high technology, insanely complex, and surprisingly easy to fuck up. The first round that punched sideways through the unit probably did most of the damage that was needed, the next fifteen?

Maybe overkill.

I didn’t care.

I whipped the blade around, and triggered the jump-jets, blurring to the left, from where I’d been about to pass the trio on the right, their guns swiveled, tracking me, as my shoulder mounted railguns powered up.

Until now they’d been folded down, forced by the stealth suit into retraction, laid flat against my back.

Now they fired over and over, their aim gone from a wide area reticule to pin-point accuracy as perfect as any sniper.

Chinks in the three AI controlled suits’ armor were identified by my RI and I exploited them. My rifle emptied its store, hammering the right-most of the group back. His gun I’d already cut in two, and now, as the rifle switched to its internal mag, the next ten shots punched through the damaged armor to take out the power core.

The middle suit hit me over and over, before my sword drove through the middle of his chest, the required body inside for the AI to puppet carbonizing under the onslaught of plasma.

The final suit of the three leapt onto me, taking me and staggering me sideways, his armor penetrated in a half dozen places by railgun shots.

I twisted at the hip and flipped the fucker over me, releasing my rifle and dragging the sword free of its most recent victim, before swinging for the one on the ground…

…and being hit in the side by plasma fire.

I staggered, diving to the side, hitting the ground and rolling, coming up before Blue Three, the AI in ascendence, could smooth out full control and lock in on me.

I sprinted forwards, jump-jets flaring, pushing my feet faster and faster, as I crossed the distance between me and him, then throwing myself onto my back, bouncing and clanging as I skidded under the fresh barrage of plasma fire, which instead washed over the already damaged APS I’d just flipped.

He, or it, detonated a second later, as I kicked up, smashing the plasma rifle aside, and flipped to my feet.

I could hear the sound of battle from Blue One and Six, they were down, but they weren’t out, and I dragged the second sword I’d brought free, even as I chopped the heavy plasma’s feed cable loose, then rammed the newly forming blade through the chest of what had once been Blue Three.

Spinal Tap Assessed : Third tier congruent processing points are available. Assessing fourth tier congruent processing points.

I staggered, pain racing through my body as the final linkages were tested, and for a second the world around me whited out, and I tasted… purple?

I shook my head, blinking away the notice, just in time to be hit in the chest by the top half of Six.

We crashed to the ground, me stunned as he screamed and convulsed, then I forced myself back into action, there was nothing to be done for him, and the guiltiest motherfucker on the planet needed judging. The last of the combat stims I’d looted from the other suits and I’d been saving all injecting at once.

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I bounded back to my feet, eyeing the monster suit as it tossed aside the legs and lower body of Blue Six almost negligently.

It was clearly the next gen assault mecha as much as it was an APS. Bipedal, it stood with a wide stance, a massive chest that the pilot or operator presumably sat inside of, heavy shoulders with a single missile launcher—fortunately empty for transport—sitting atop.

The right arm ended in an attached rotary autocannon, the kind of chain firing insane level of firepower that Artem used on the city walls to bring down attacking aircraft, not loaded aboard individual mecha!

The left arm? Four claw like fingers sat spaced equidistantly around a palm that held a more ‘normal’ sized minigun in the palm.

It had what looked to have heavy cannons on either side of the chest, recessed into the body, and a flamethrower unit retracted on the back, and all in all?

It was fucking terrifying.

It was also chasing Blue One, and the laughter that filled the air, manic and shrill was that of Major Marcial.

“Run, little man! Run!” he bellowed. “You APS! You fools! Always looking down on officers, all your jokes, your snide comments… you think we don’t know? You think we don’t hear? We were always better than you! We send you to die because you’re worthless! But this…? This was too good to waste on the likes of you!”

I was up in seconds, grabbing the released plasma swords and sprinting at the suit from behind, only to throw myself down at the last second, bouncing and rolling, as it spun with terrifying speed, an arm flashing past inches from my head as I passed under it.

I dug my heels in popping to my feet and lashing out with both blades, crisscrossing the right leg and carving lines of glowing steel in the knee joint, glowing liquid metal fountaining out as I dragged the blades free… then dove aside again, this time as a foot flashed past.

I tried to roll to my feet, but the autocannon smashed into me, sending me flying, a dent appearing in the inside of my armor, the fucker had hit that hard.

Shaking myself, I rolled, assuming the front leaning rest position, and then dipped and shoved off hard, both swords lost, but I was still alive.

My railguns targeted the knee, unloading the last dozen rounds they had into it, and causing the suit to stagger, even as Blue One leapt onto its back, driving his own plasma sword down into the chest from behind.

It sank in halfway, before the major twisted and slammed himself back into the nearest wall, crushing Jon between the enormous suit and the wall.

Then the left hand came up, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him forwards, throwing him in one furious motion into the transport, smashing the cab in and leaving the APS pinned in the wreckage as he tried to free himself.

I raced forwards, jinking left and right then dipped as if about to throw myself under him again, before planting a foot and kicking off, my jump-jets activating as I launched into the air, bringing my fist back and slamming it into the middle of the body with all my enhanced APS might.

He staggered back, twisting, as he tried to catch his balance, then the damaged knee, unable to support the weight, buckled, then sheered free.

I landed, then darted forwards, reaching for the fucker only to be caught by a flailing foot and thrown backwards, crashing to the floor. I rolled, my vision filling with a final prompt as I popped back to my feet.

Spinal Tap Assessed : Fourth tier congruent processing points are available. Activating remaining systems.

I hesitated, then screamed as pain, pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced, flooded my body. I felt like I’d been dipped in acid, my skin flayed from my flesh, muscles shredded strip by strip.

In my mind’s eye my bones were cracking, marrow boiling. My teeth felt like they exploded, then reformed, a thousand years of agony, in a handful of seconds, before finally, mercifully, it all fell silent, and I refocused my optical sensors, the feeling of the world around me subtly different as I shifted, tiny stone cracking under my armored bulk.

I pushed up, rising to my feet, as the world around me changed. I felt my powercore sustaining me, my armor protecting me, and my senses?

I reached out, sensors twitching and realigning as they adjusted from the mere tools they had been before, granting me unparalleled focus. Information was flooding me, I pulsed my Lidar, radar, sound and gravitational sensors all at once, blending them seamlessly, then stared as I saw the world for the first time.

All around me the world shivered, as data flowed in and out, I felt the packs of nanites stored in my rear storage, and I drew on them, feeling them flood me, augmenting my body as they repaired me.

Tiny machines, tens of thousands of clusters that the suits were always designed to integrate with and yet they’d never been…

They’d never been ready.

Not the suits, not the pilots, not the operators nor the nanites. Not until…

I looked down at my hands, then my body, a curious mirroring sensation as I sensed my flesh-body inside my chest, slumbering as I became, well, more .

The Major twisted around, and clearly saw me, standing there, then reached out, expecting to crush me.

I scanned his suit, I scanned him, and I shook my head in disgust.

This wasn’t an advancement .

His suit was a bastardization of various forms of tech, certainly, the powercore was impressive, and the sheer lethality that they’d managed to pack into a single frame was impressive, but it was crude.

I examined the suit as time seemed to slow, the massive clawed hand reaching for me as though moving through molasses. Then I stepped aside.

The claw snapped shut an inch from my armor, and I watched it, in a daze, before the world seemed to slam back into focus.

The major was inside this piece of shit, tin can, this knockoff that some idiot was trying to peddle as MY successor and replacement? No.

I stepped to the side, then took two quick steps to the right, triggering my jump-jets and darting clear again as I dodged and the major flailed, then I was moving, not dodging, but darting in.

I punched, my powercore flaring, additional power reserves being fed to my servos, as my fist blurred.

I hammered it into the elbow joint of the left arm, the metal denting visibly, before I struck again, then leapt back, he flailed wildly, his autocannon swinging around. I stepped back, literally a meter, watching the tips of the multiple barrels flash past inches from my armor, I was glad all over again that the fucker was unarmed for transport.

I waited, as he crashed down again, having to brace on both arms to support himself, screaming about distantly over what he would do to us, before I struck again, fast, hard strikes each time into the wide ring that protected the elbow joint.

Each blow that landed caused the armored ring to deform, to crush inward, and three it seemed, was the magic number.

I dodged back, jumping to land lightly, jets triggering, my suit and I no longer operator and armor, but a single symbiotic entity, the fourth tier of the spinal tap creating a link that allowed me to mirror the suit entirely as my own body.

I gloried in the power and grace of this new body even as the major tried to swing for me, his elbow crunching, whirring as servos whined, power being fed into them as they tried to overcome bent and damaged connections.

He cursed and I slid to the right dodging the lunge before I’d even seen it consciously, rolling to the right as he tried to grab me again. This time when I came to my feet though, I held a plasma sword in either hand, and I slowly strode forwards, letting him watch me come as I triggered the blades.

The plasma flowed forth, the containment fields carving them into ionized paths of brilliance, as Marcial shifted around, bracing against the wall and forcing himself up on his one good leg.

He hesitated only a minute, letting me come in range, then kicked off, throwing himself forwards, expecting to take advantage of his massive armored bulk and to crush me like a bug, presumably.

Instead I lunged forwards, ducking under his arms and twisting to the left, dragging the blades across his remaining legs, carving great divots in the armor, before spinning behind him, and cutting the fields to their minimum length of half a meter.

I’d never used them this short, always believing that the longer range was the better, but right now? I hammered them into the side of the massive behemoth over and over, each attack sinking deeper, carving more and more of the suit’s vitally needed systems out from under the major, before I slid sideways again, roaming around behind his back.

The major twisted, the enormous claw like hand swinging for my head, and rather than duck or dodge? I braced.

I lifted both swords and braced ready, the blades one behind the other.

As plasma, they couldn’t be physically locked against each other, but that didn’t matter when they sizzled into the massive, dented elbow joint.

The arm dragged to a halt inches from me, before the joint ripped free, the lower arm and hand collapsing to the ground, as the rest flashed past, the suit pivoting and throwing itself forwards to crush me.

I took it, dropping both swords and bracing, my feet sliding back several inches, but I managed to hold the fucker’s weight… right up until he smashed the autocannon into my side.

I staggered, my armor crumpled inward, the massive strength of the behemoth enough to bend even my armor, and I snarled, flaring my powercore, demanding more from it than I ever had before.

The response was instant, a full third of my remaining fuel was converted in the core, fusion forcing my servos to flare to their maximum, as I heaved and shoved the fucker back, then smashed my fist into the side of his armored chest, leaving a dent of my own.

Then I darted back, letting him crash to the floor, before I turned and jogged to where Jon lay stunned, watching us fight.

“Are you alight?” I asked him grimly, and he activated his external speakers.

“I… I am. Your suit? Fuck Kabutt, how much did you spend on upgrades?” he asked, and I snorted.

“It’s not the suit,” I said, striding past him and picking up a discarded rifle, his I think.

Then I strode back to the major, who was apparently discovering that when you activate a jamming beacon, you really should consider that sometimes, just sometimes, you want to be able to turn the fucker off again in a hurry.

“It was never about the suit,” I said as I stood over the major, who was frantically keying his speakers, his voice an unintelligible babble of panic and pleading. “It was always about the operator.”

“Please…” The major whimpered. “…I have credits! I can help you!”

“Major Marcial,” I said in a loud, clear voice. “You are responsible for the deaths of at least a hundred men and women here tonight, and two of my closest friends… how do you plead?”

“I… I…”The major fell silent, the reality of his situation apparently dawning on him at last, as I sneered, before unleashing the full magazine into a fracture point on his chest that my combined scan had identified.

“GUILTY.” I declared with finality.

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