Could there be any greater experience in Idylon, or anywhere, than to witness the cycle of rings first hand? The rolling vocals of the choir filled the temple while Smootchz was bathed in the warmth of the star from on high through the oculus. The love of Brydeal truly palpable as it shrouded the congregation. All the trials and tests had been worth it to make it to this place in life. How far she had risen. From clinging to the grates beneath the pew benches to try and catch even the most minute glance, to now standing just behind the Reverent Exarch in all her Luminous glory.
Smootchz took a moment to admire the Exarch, the light of the star reflecting off her reflective antlers. Not to mention the shimmering cascade of light brought on by the many censers lit for the ceremony that dangled from her antlers too. The smoke billowing down and adding to the effect of the godly light of the star being focused through the oculus. If there was any more clear view of the work of Brydeal upon the mortal planes Smootchz had not seen it. Even her robes, handed down century to century bore the work of the faithful to connect them with generations of ancestors. The virtues smiled upon their work and all that had made Idylon the gem of a city it was still.
The voices of the choir were now building to a crescendo as the Exarch held aloft the Great Quantum Heart with her mechandrils, even as she stretched out her mighty stained glass wings, and reached out with her true arms to the light. All of it was a beauty to the eye, as the colors swirled and began to merge as the rings found their places around the oculus one by one. Finally the choir voices reached their climax as the oculus was finished and the light of the star was focused down through the heart and into the Exarch.
Many of the congregation wept at the beauty of the Exarch bathed in the light and favor of Brydeal. Especially as the mighty heart held high contracted and then beat. With each pulse the heart sent surging power through the lights of the temple, along with the static squeals of the electronics that the nobles in the congregation had brought with them to be blessed. Smootchz stood transfixed, watching the heart now. In the era of the Deep Shroud the heart had not been able to beat even once. Yet, with each passing cycle the Shroud receded, letting in more of the luminous glory of Brydeal. Now the heart beat a full three times… four! Before the oculus finally shifted. The rings began to pull back. The lights dimmed. And the ceremony was ending.
Slowly turning in place the Exarch faced the congregation now, Smootchz swift to scurry behind her, and grab the hem of her mighty robe, lifting it up so it did not drag on the temple floor. With the heart still held up by the holy mechandrils rising from her ribs she extended her true arms towards the people. “[Another cycle brings many portents. Promises of prosperity as we know in the love of Brydeal. The acquisition of knowledge, as we the true progeny of Brydeal seek. Yet, also warnings. I must retire to my chambers to ruminate. Blessed be as was, as is, as shall yet.]”
“[Bright and Eternal!]” Came the echoing return from the congregation. Then the Exarch turned in place once more, slowly lowering the heart to hold against her chest, her stained glass wings folding up. Smootchz scurried around again, maintaining the integrity of the robes while following the Exarch out of the Solarium. Matching pace Smootchz stepped when the Exarch stepped, keeping the flow of her movements steady and serene. The voices of the choir picking up once more, now joined by the strings, and pipes to bid the Exarch knowledge.
Once they were past the threshold and the doors silently descended behind them, the Exarch began moving much faster. “[Vault.]” Smootchz dropped the edge of the robe at the word and scurried past the Exarch, having to sprint in order to get ahead of her much longer strides, waving at the vault door before them and frantically entering the runes to unlock it. Barely pulling it open before the Exarch got there to press the heart into its cradle so Smootchz could close and seal it once more. “[Robes.]” Came the next word.
“[Yes Lumina!]” Smootchz quickly locked the vault scurried over as the Exarch moved to sit before the concordat terminal. Smootchz worked quickly to loosen the various ties and fasteners of the robe while the Exarch herself began to unfasten the censer’s from her antlers and set them on the table besides the terminal. “[An excellent sermon, and ceremony. As always Exarch!]”
“[Thank you Adept.]” She replied while her mechandrils moved to the terminal to turn it on. “[Adept, I will tell you now that Brydeal spoke to me of dire news. I spoke of prosperity and knowledge to the congregation but you must know the truth. We face hardship and conflict. His divine data enlightened me that the council seeks to block the ascension of Idylon. My ascension. The Luminex Maximus himself seeks to stop us. They fear our acquisition of knowledge. They fear it is our interpretation of the voice of Brydeal which will win over the people.]”
“[This is terrible news!]” For a moment Smootchz stopped unfastening the robe. How quickly the beauty of the ceremony was fading as this new dread took hold.
“[Truly. This city. This great bright beacon of civilization across the age of the Shroud of ignorance has survived where so many have fallen. We approach a time of thriving and prosperity unlike any since the fall of the concordat. But, we shall face many challenges to reach it and seize the glory and wealth that is due to us and our faithful. It is our sect, and our sect alone that has preserved the church. The council does not see this. Or worse still, they see it and fear it so they move to block us.]” Even while the Exarch spoke she looked at the terminal, no doubt analyzing the data brought about by the end of the ceremony.
“[What can be done Lumina?]” Smootchz was only an Adept, though she had risen in the ranks with decent speed. The church had been there for her whole life. Accepting her despite her species. Educating her where no others would. Providing for her in a world where nothing was truly secure or guaranteed. Her life was dedicated to the warmth and glory of Brydeal. If she could assist in any way. She would.
“[Brydeal reveals to me that Exarch Tubulius has found something in his province. He claims it is an artifact of the silicon heresy. That it is touched by the Shroud, and sullied by Heathens, yet holds promise should it be cleansed. So he is sending it to the council to be purged. But my sources tell me this is a lie. It is not sullied. It is not touched by the Shroud. It is in fact pure, and touched by Brydeal. It is divine proof that the next Luminex Maximus will in fact come from Idylon. From this temple. This is what they fear.]” Even as a mere Adept Smootchz had heard much of the rumblings and rumors in the halls, of the politicking of the higher priests and their courts. But why would they seek to intervene in the holy word of Brydeal? The thought chilled her.
“[So we must act. Has Brydeal’s wisdom guided you to a solution?]” She had a feeling the Exarch had something in mind. Why else share this knowledge with her? Protocol of Intellectual Security 19. There is no idle transfer of knowledge. Only Divine, or Malignant.
“[The artifact is being sent by a concordat Casket through the Niliven wastes, so they may take the gate at Ja’tran. Why would they choose such a route except to avoid our province entirely? The gate here is larger, and better maintained, not to mention closer. We have a chance to strike the heretics who seek to pervert the voice of our god to their own mad ends. But…]” Now the Exarch stopped typing on the terminal and looked down at Smootchz directly. “[It is protected.]”
“[Protocol of Force 12 Even those who wear the flesh of the faithful may strike out, from a place of ignorance, confusion, or heresy. It is the duty of the pure analysts to strike them down and ensure the voice of god remains pure.]” Even as she recited that the Exarch smiled and nodded.
“[Yes. But this Casket is being guarded. Tubulius has sent all four of his Warsphinx with it. Idylon has secured its place through our neutrality. It has brought prosperity through our peaceful ways. We lack any means of force to take on one such Warsphinx let alone four. Yet, there is a contingent just arrived in the Heathen bazaar who we can use. Delivered unto us at this perfect moment. For the brilliance of Brydeal knows no bounds.]” Smootchz marveled at how calm the Exarch appeared. Four Warsphinx? The mighty machines of war were marvels of the concordat age. What Heathens could possibly-
“[Exarch! You can not mean-]” The Exarch’s mechandrils were quick to wrap around Smootchz’ muzzle before she could continue, her body trembling a moment as the Exarch loomed over her.
“[Do not say their name Adept. But yes. Those whom you think. The harbingers of the Shroud. Those who destroyed the concordat. Those who ended millenia of peace, brought low the gates, and sundered the Silicon Dream. Worst of all the heathens. Especially as they bring not ignorance but a twisted form of knowledge that corrupts faithful flesh and machine alike. It pains me physically to seek them out for this task. But there is no alternative. In this Brydeal does show us a way. For who could possibly think they work for us. But they seek no ideal, only pay. And for this task we shall provide it so they will do our bidding. The bidding of god. And in this they will, for a moment, be our tools in purifying the land. Do you understand?]” The Exarch’s eyes were focused very intently on her.
Smootchz could only nod. She knew now why the Exarch was confiding all this in her. When she had seen the rogue program as a mere neophyte she had taken it upon herself to quarantine it inside the only secure place she knew. Her own implant. She had saved a holy data repository, but at great cost to herself. For her mind was now tainted, by a program dating back to the fall of the concordat. Yet, not of divine origin. No, this came from the despoilers. It also came with knowledge. The Exarch needed her now because she could communicate with them. The humans. “[I will do what is necessary.]”
The Exarch handed over a dataslate then. “[Take this then to their leader. I have made arrangements. You will see to it they obey my commands. When you return, you will be an Adept no longer.]” This caused her to look up in surprise. Would she be cast out for her dealings with the humans? “[You shall be made Dataseer. Once you return.]”
Smootchz could hardly believe the promise. Her? A Dataseer? Her heart swelled with pride at the opportunity. “[I will not fail you Lumina.]” She rose up then, taking the dataslate. But before she could turn, the Exarch set her hands on Smootchz shoulders.
“[I have faith in you. Faith in your importance to our sect. To the true and pure voice of god. I trust you with this and no one else. Tell no one of your mission.]” Smootchz nodded, her mind and soul filling with resolve. Though the Exarch had always been good and kind to her, she knew her possible rise in the church was limited with the rogue program in her implant. This might be her only chance… certainly her best chance.
But even that did not matter because this was a mission from god. “[I will not tail Exarch.]” Smootchz promised with a nod. Then paused a moment. “[Should I… finish with the robes?]”
“[No, I can tend to them. Swift feet now Adept.]” The Exarch dismissed her with a nod as she turned back to her terminal. Satisfied she could go Smootchz turned to scurry off through the chamber, heading straight to the Exarch’s private access hatch. She had little love of the tunnels after having spent so much of her youth in them. But they were suited for her kind. It’s why they had been tolerated so long. Someone always needed to run wire and slink into the hard to reach places. The Iosien were certainly not suited for this with their antlers.
As Smootchz opened the hatched she tugged a bit on her own robes, making sure they were fastened properly before descending down the ladder. The bright lights of the Solarium quickly gave way to the deep red of the tunnels. The shadows ran deep in the wireways but she knew her way through without any doubt. She could have been blind and found her way considering how long she’d spent running wires.
There were so many ways to tell where she was. Being able to see made it painfully easy. Each wire coloring itself leading to the set quarters. With precise blinkers to know which server bank she was near from there. If she went by sound she could parse the quad fans of the central core easily from the double spirals of the engineering tomb. Then there was even smell. Lumina Fuea preferred the more spiced incense, while the Exarch of course used sanctified flowers. Then there was the kitchen… Oh how she had sat and just… smelled all the smells she could when just a little kit within the tunnels. Wondering what flavors matched the smells that drifted down to her.
Of course she had no time to reminisce. Though she would forever cherish the Exarch for bringing her up out of the tunnels. Even if this wasn’t the will of god she would relish the opportunity to help her ascend. But, knowing it was indeed Brydeal’s will made it all the better. Once she came to the sealed door separating the temple tunnels from those of the greater city she had to pause and collect her robes, making sure they were cinched tight. She would not abide any delays. Tapping the runes in, she waited for the door to hiss open and began to run.
There wasn’t any monsters waiting for her, no bandits, or dangerous traps. Except her most feared trap of all. Social interaction. “[I faith! Task! Gimme chore! Adept!]” She could already hear some of her kin chittering as they saw her. They’d want to help. For some kind of favor or treat! They clustered in the tunnels by the door. Those who weren’t smart enough to find ways in, or disciplined enough to find work with the church. She just kept moving and scurrying, tail wrapped around her waist like a belt to keep her robes tight so none could try and grab at her.
“[Adept! Task! Chore!]” The voices echoed down the tunnels but she was already past them. The word of Brydeal gave her feet wings. The further out from the temple she got the less likely it was to see anyone else, but she didn’t feel like taking her time today. The wireways got progressively less coded, and more twisted the further out she went. By the time she drew near to the Heathen Bazaar there were precious few wires left, most of the lights flickering and fading. Still, she moved through the shadows as if the eye of the Core lit her way.
Soon though, even the tunnels ended. It was time for her to resurface out of their safety and deal with the Heathens. The thought of facing them in person did send a chill down her spine, even through her tail. Humans… She knew of no other species with as long and infamous a history. How else would one describe those that destroyed the Concordat? The legends of their arrivals, the upheaval, the unrest, and of course the war. Such terror hadn’t been seen since the very first days of the Concordat.
What she was unsure of was if they truly understood what they had done. While the data speaks of their actions it spoke nothing of their reasons. They were rational beings… Probably. They created machines, and knew the secret of tricking sand into thinking. Though they did refuse to accept the church… Maybe that was out of spite for the scattering of their kin, and the destruction of their home. The datasheets spoke at lengths on humanity’s mastery of spite.
Still, they were dangerous. But in the age of ignorance they had become masters of what many provinces, petty Kings, and tyrants desperately desired. War. To wage any sort of war had been relatively unthinkable in the age of the Concordat, then to sell one’s skill at it? Truly absurd. Yet, here and now the humans had let the many successors know of their profession. Mercenaries was the same word in any tongue, for it was a human word. Taking a last deep breath in the comfort of the tunnel she finally climbed the ladder to enter the small maintenance room within the Heathen Bazaar.
It was nice to see it hadn’t been vandalized since last inspection. The purity markers were still in place. Moving to the door she tapped in the runes and it slid open before her sense were nearly overwhelmed. There was the bright light of the sun flooding in, the smell of something strong and spiced, and the sounds of some kind of cacophony! Was it music? She was used to the gentle harmonies and elegant melodies of the church choir. This stuff was… loud and harsh to her ears, and the lyrics… She gasped as she began to make sense of what they were singing about.
When her eyes adjusted and she stepped out into the light there was another assault on her senses as she could finally see the Heathens she had read so much about in the flesh. They had set up camp at the edge of the Bazaar, and were sitting on crates, or rickety looking chairs, mostly in front of their wildly designed tents. Some had strung up hammocks, and in the middle of their camp they had set up a fire pit, with… something being turned on a spit over a fire. Their outfits could be charitably described as… eccentric and more accurately described as garish.
Of course Brydeal was not opposed to acts of affection, or the occasional enticing outfit. But the humans here seemed to be clothed in precious little. The most common being some sort of… skin tight outfit that left precious little to the imagination! And they were touching each other all over! Much of what they did likely wouldn’t be tolerated in any civilized Brydeal fearing city! Except of course what had given them the ability to fight the Concordat. The massive war machines towering over them and their camp.
When the war had begun, no one thought the Concordat military would face anything more than token resistance from the barely gate capable species. After all the Concordat had the mighty Warsphinx! Runictitans! Silicon Giants! And so many more such massive constructs of war. Then it turned out the humans despite their vast technological inferiority in so many ways had war constructs of their own. Strong enough to rival the Concordat! It had been a disaster. More amazing still was that they still worked centuries later.
Looking around she could spot five of the metal behemoths, and knew the city had the weapons and strength to deal with… two. Three if Data Templar Fireplume was as good in reality as he was in the sims. Which would still leave the humans with overwhelming fire superiority, and the flat out knowledge they could destroy the entire city. Instead of destroying the city though here they lounged. Listening to terrible ear piercing music, wearing garish sinful outfits, smoking known carcinogens, and even… holding hands in public. They were a strange lot.
“Boss!” She jumped a little as one of the humans near her called out. “Got a data runner I think!”
“No, those are Adept robes. Probably the local Exarch sending us a nicely worded fuck off letter.” The one who had replied, the apparent boss, was sitting on a strange low and long chair which itself was atop a crate marked… Munitions?! “Someone get a safe drink ready. The last one liked juice.”
Safe drink? What were they planning? “Sure thing boss!” One of the humans in bright red shorts with some kind of garish neon blue and yellow shirt got up and wandered into a nearby green drab tent.
She began to carefully approach the boss while he got up from his chair, then to her surprise he spoke to her in the enlightened tongue. “[Pray fair Adept bringeth you on for which guided reason?]” Or… close enough.
“Are you in charge of this… band? Army?” She had assumed that talking to them would be easy but she found her implant having trouble selecting the exact word she wanted against what she was thinking. Maybe his version of the enlightened tongue wasn’t so bad in comparison.
“Oh. Yes. I’m Frank, and these are my freaks.” Even as her implant translated the word the assembled mercenaries began to howl.
“Freeeaaaaks!” Then their music got louder as several of them hopped around the fire with the roasting animal.
“Don’t mind the display. We’re all degenerates here.” Frank rose up from his chair, hopping down to stand before her. She was a little surprised to find that he wasn’t all that big. The datasets made them seem… imposing. But he was likely no taller than the Exarch if one discounted her antlers. Then he extended a hand to her as her implant informed her of proper greeting.
“I am Smootchz.” She replied and reached out to do her best to take hold of his hand. She feared he might crush her fingers, but he just gave her a firm shake and released.
“I’m gonna call you Smooch. Well Smooch what brings you here?” He asked as he then reached up to scratch what little face fluff humans possessed. Human males only? Her implant detailed it as a beard.
“I am sent with a possible, discreet offer. For your… war machines.” She gestured up at the machines in question.
“Ah. The Church wants our help but doesn’t want to get their own hands dirty.” She was worried this would displease him. But he just smiled. “Well the Church has deep pockets and plenty of tithes so let me introduce you to everyone! This is our resident missile enthusiast Sassy Molassy with her mech Chuck.” He nodded to the base of the nearest war machine. There was a dark fleshed human fiddling with a stack of warheads with nothing more to protect herself than tinted goggles.
“Sassy Molassy? Really Frank? Fuck off.” The human dismissed him with a shake of her head as she kept working.
“Keeping it Sassy as always Molassy.” Smootchz found her implant struggling a little as the human waved her on to the next. There was a human in a strange white coat mashing some kind of… fungus up in a little pot. “This is Doc, our chemical enthusiast. Nothing related to his mech Ranke, just letting you know he’s the one to see if you need drugs.”
Smootchz was aghast at the very suggestion but the human nodded at her and smiled wide. “Fräulein.”
“And we’re moving.” Frank kept her walking along towards the base of the next mech. “This is my second in command Pretzel and her mech Cheshire.” When Smootchz looked up at this mech she saw it had a massive evil grin painted across the chest, though the human sitting on the foot of the machine was nowhere near as impressive. She seemed a bit small, and was blowing a strange pink sphere out of her mouth. Which then suddenly burst, making Smootchz jump a little in surprise. Though she noticed the pink sphere matched the color of the human’s hair, which her implant listed as unusual.
“Frank. We getting a church contract?” Smootchz did not like the way the human stared at her. It felt like she was being sized up for her potential value… Did humans deal in slaves? The Datasets hadn’t mentioned it.
“Maybe. Best behavior.” Frank kept moving then as she now spotted one of the other infamous species of the age of ignorance. A Korgexitor. Lanky scaled creatures with long tails and numerous toxic quills along their spines. They were not known for their hospitality. Yet, they were also known for being isolationists, so why was one here? This one was holding a large bucket filled with some strange bright blue… fluid. Syrup? “This is Wal’gleix’gla’gluhy or some shit. We call him Wally. This is his mech Gena.”
Now this was truly what she had expected to see from the human machines. This one towered even over the others, rivaling a Warsphinx in height, even if not pure size, being only bipedal. Still, an impressive sight. But the pilot… The Korgexitor lazily smiled, showing her many of its teeth were for some reason gold. “Drink?” He lifted the bucket up towards her.
“Don’t.” Frank advised before she could answer on her own. “It’s coolant.”
“Coolant?!” She gasped out, making sure her implant had translated properly.
“Is best. You never piss until you piss coolant.” Wally kept grinning even as he tipped the bucket up to take another big gulp of the stuff.
“Yeah apparently it’s the right kind of toxic for his kind. Cheaper than alcohol though.” Frank moved on then and waved for her to follow along as he headed to the last of the mechs, which was smaller and less impressive than the rest. Though it still towered over the camp, and something about the weapons on the side looked… oddly familiar for some reason? “This is-”
“My mech Fénix.” Smootchz jumped once more as a human was suddenly beside her. Then she recognized the one from earlier with the absolutely garish outfit. Yet, he just smiled wide and handed her a small box. “Juice. It’s safe for Feroat. We’ve tested it.”
“Thank you.” She hadn’t expected them to be this easy going, truly. So she took the little box and looked it over with some confusion.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Take that straw.” He pointed to a little white bent thing on the back, which she pried free. “Then stick the end through that little hole.” He pointed at the top of the box. Smootchz was rather skeptical now, but she did as directed and the hole opened up for the straw. The two humans just gave her expectant looks and she carefully directed the straw to the tip of her muzzle, giving a hesitant sip.
“Mh.” She was very pleasantly surprised by the sweet flavor of the beverage. It wasn’t any juice she knew, but it had an undercurrent of slight sourness to offset the sweet which was very nice. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome! I’m Horheh by the way.” Before he could continue Frank cut in.
“Spelled J-O-R-J-E.” As he listed out the letters her implant flashed in her brain for a moment before acknowledging the pronunciation.
“How? Why?” She asked in confusion but Frank just shook his head. Another human oddity perhaps, that their own language didn’t follow the rules it was supposed to have.
“Yeah well my name aside!” Jorje waved it off. “It’s the best! Got custom made flamethrowers that’ll torch literally anything!” When he gestured up at the weapons she had seen earlier she gasped realizing now why they looked familiar. It was as if someone had taken holy torches and scaled them up to massive weapons on the sides of a war machine! “Giant bugs, hostile mechs, protestors! Yep Fénix can scorch them all! Plus this bad boy’ll get up to 130 without me even red lining.”
While she had no idea what that last bit meant she was just in awe of the casual brutality the human’s war machine displayed. Though, after the initial shock wore off she looked around and counted. “You have no mech?” She asked Frank.
“Sure I do! It’s in here being worked on.” He waved her to a large set of tents at the back of the camp she had assumed were for bedding or the like. But when they stepped inside she could see a mech laid out on the back of a large wheeled vehicle. It never occurred to her that they might need something to work on the mechs, but it’s obvious they didn’t have any more sophisticated workshops.
For a mech being used by the leader of this group she wasn’t all that impressed. Most of the others had been bigger from what she could tell. It wasn’t completely covered in weapons either, though she could see heavy railing dangling some massive guns above it so maybe it was just being worked on? “This is yours? It’s… not very big.” She spoke of her concern.
“It’s not the size! It’s how you use it!” Frank insisted then. “Harry here is a quality command and control mech. Our mech specialist has also improved the jump jets. Yes, even better than new!” He looked ready to continue but then she saw one of her own kin pop her head up from the guts of the mech which seemed to anger Frank. “Hey! You better not be messing with the gyros! I just got those how I like!”
Smootchz was already annoyed with the other Feroat. Why were they always meddling and getting into places where they didn’t belong? Why couldn’t they show more discipline? “Uncle Frank just let me fix it! You keep overtwisting and it puts more stress on the frame! We burn through your gyros twice as fast as anyone else!”
“I know what I’m doing! If you don’t like doing extra maintenance that’s too fucking bad! Jorje go handle your daughter.” Frank waved at the other human who began to hop up onto the large vehicle the mech was laying on.
“You know she’s just passionate about her work.” Jorje insisted. Smootchz was still reeling from the implications of what she’d heard and wasn’t sure what to do about it.
“At least let me just overclock the reactor if performance is your concern!” The other Feroat kept protesting as Jorje got up to drag her out of the guts of the mech.
“No! Harry gets fucking hot! And he doesn’t like it! We can replace Harry’s gyros! We can’t replace his reactor! If you get a super gyro to work I’ll try it out but until then leave them the way I want! Ugh. Teens, am I right?” Frank shook his head even as Smootchz just kept staring. “Did you want to take a look while Harry’s opened up? You’re an Adept, I bet all this tech stuff fascinates you.”
Smootchz just stayed still, watching with amazement as Jorje lifted his… daughter? Out of the mech and she noticed the other Feroat had two extra mechanical arms attached to her spine. How was that possible?! She couldn’t be one of the faithful. They weren’t the more sophisticated and elegant mechandrils after all. But how had they affixed them? Humans surely lacked this tech. Right? Could they fix some to her? Would her implant not reject them? Human tech with human tech? “Smooch?”
She shook her head a little as Frank spoke to her again. “Hm? Oh. No. I just... Here is your mission.” She reached into her robes to retrieve the Exarch’s dataslate and hand it over.
Frank studied it for a moment and his eyebrows arched up, noting some kind of surprise her implant registered. “What’s the opfor? Ah, opposition.”
“Four warsphinx.” Registering this he slowly rubbed along his chin.
“That’s… a very generous payout. The warsphinx, are these from your… space pope guy?” Smootchz frowned as her implant worked on a rough translation.
“No. The Exarch of the neighboring province. Tubulius.” She explained.
“So these would be his personal guard. He’s not progressive right? So they’d likely still have to obey an Onwag.” For a moment she was surprised the human would even know what an Onwag was, but then realized since he spent his life in combat he had likely seen it a number of times.
“Yes, ritual combat is taken very seriously by the faithful.” She confirmed. “Idylon… does it less violently. But it’s very serious. Why? Your mechs are impressive… but Warsphinx are likely capable of defeating any of your mechs in single one on one combat.” She glanced at Frank’s mech especially which seemed so slight.
“Don’t you worry about that. Your Exarch makes it clear time is critical. Are you ready to go then?” Smootchz just looked back up at him.
“Go where?” She asked and glanced around. Obviously she’d leave if they needed the space.
“To… get this… whatever the fuck. Your Exarch says you’re coming with us to verify its authenticity and safety.” Smootchz realized that made logical sense, still she hadn’t expected it until now. The Exarch needed her though. Brydeal needed her. From the moment her implant was infected he had no doubt meant for all this to happen. His guiding hand moved across centuries. She was needed by god.
“Yes. I’m ready.” She’d never left the city before. The notion of all this happening so swiftly sent another shudder down her spine, but thankfully Frank had turned to walk out of the large tent and didn’t see it. Though when she looked back up at Frank’s mech she could see the other Feroat staring straight at her. Closing her eyes she began to recite the canticle of calm to soothe her nerves.
“Freaks! We’re about to get fucking paid!” He called out and she could hear much hollering as they celebrated. What had she gotten herself wrapped up in?
________________
“Contacts just at the edge of the city.” Frank was eying the display on his left as he placed the marker for the warsphinx in their approximate location.
“I still can’t believe there’s no support. No infantry, no light armor, not even a maintenance team as far as I can see. Just the warpshinx and the casket.” Jorje was saying, keeping his reactor low as he tracked the hostiles from the edge of the ruined city.
“I mean we only arrived in this spiral so we don’t know as much but from what I’ve gathered Tubulius is facing problems back home. He probably couldn’t spare the soldiers for an escort and figured no one would mess with warsphinx.” Frank mentioned as he checked everyone’s position on the display again.
The ruined city was right on the path the warsphinx had been taking, and it wasn’t like he could expect them to wander into a box canyon so they’d set up to use it for cover. Sometimes he wondered what these old cities looked like before the war. Had they housed millions of people? Tens of millions? They were empty now, and a great place to set up ambushes. All the metal and debris played hell on most sensors. “What if this is a setup?” Pretzel asked, always the paranoid sort.
Frank was about to dismiss the idea but instead he keyed in the support channel to talk to Smooch where she waited in the support crawler with Jorje’s daughter Valencia, and wife Astrud. He had figured it would be nicer for the church Feroat to travel with one of her own kind. Plus Astrud was plenty familiar with Feroats. “Smooch, are you familiar with the phrase plausible deniability?”
There was a moment before her voice came back, a little scratchy on the less powerful comms system in the crawler. “I am aware of the words, and can understand them through context.”
“Right, well what’s keeping your Exarch from using us to strike her rival, and then cut you off, call you a rogue heretic, and blame us all for this shit so we’re hunted out of the spiral?” Even as he waited he watched the warphinx signal on the display slowly march closer.
“She would never!” Smooch immediately replied. “I am a loyal and faithful servant! Hand picked! This task is handed to her by god!”
“Well, she believes that at least.” Pretzel muttered. “What about the letters that brought us to this spiral in the first place? I still think it was the Exarch herself stringing us along with those little jobs.”
“Maybe.” Frank admitted on the combat channel before switching back over. “Why did your Exarch give you this mission right now? Did something important happen the day you came to hire us?”
“It was the divine cycle of the rings. Where the voice of god, the true knowledge of Brydeal is beamed into the mind of the Exarch through his holy light. He revealed to her this knowledge and so we acted immediately. This is why the timing was so succinct, for it is blessed by god. You may not believe, for you are a heathen, but this work is divine. You are honored to be a tool of god.” Obviously the little Feroat was being totally sincere but Frank heard the other pilots snicker and laugh on the combat channel.
“I mean, she might be a tool of god.” Sarah snickered. Sassy. He needed to keep calling her that, it annoyed her.
“I dunno, I think Doc might be a tool of god, with all the visions he grants me.” Jorje joked.
“Ja, hail ze mushroom, unt hail lysergic acid. Ze most divine of voices.” Frank just shook his head a little as his team spoke.
“Thank you Smooch.” He switched back to the combat channel. “Look she needs whatever is in the casket. So even if she wants to betray us she can’t do it until we hand it over, and Idylon has shit defenses. We could level the city. So provided no one fucks up and we kill these warpshinx nice and easy then we’re groovy. Besides, Idylon is a pretty progressive city. They’ve done well since the end of the war by promoting their schools, and preserving knowledge. From what I know of their Exarch the church council has been fucking her over for decades. This is likely nothing more than us making money off internal politics, and spite, which is our best revenue stream.”
“Stream like cool piss.” Wally added with a low lizard laugh which made Frank snort.
“Fuck’s sake Wally.” Pretzel muttered.
“Envy! Envy for my cool piss.” Wally let out a wild snicker as Frank just eyed Gena’s marker on the display. The mech was still in place ready to issue Ongwa when the Warsphinx entered the central square in the heart of the city. The place had likely once been a massive park, but was now just husks of long dead trees and a lot of ash.
Jorje was still tracking the warsphinx from a secondary road behind rows of ruined buildings. While Frank didn’t think much of the warsphinx sensor packages he only trusted Fénix to be light enough to run even a low powered reactor and not be seen. The Crow pattern scout mech was designed for this sort of thing with better shielding. Frank and Doc waited on one side of the square, while Pretzel and Sarah were on the other. Sassy.
The plan was simple: let the Wally in Gena across the square challenge them to Ongwa, wait for them to move ahead of the casket so it would be out of the line of fire, and then ambush them where they had no possible cover. Frank had fought plenty of different foes over his career, but he truly enjoyed fucking up the church guard. They were so easy to ambush. All because they must honorably honor their honorable honors. Idiots. Their god had given them rules for waging war. Rules they obeyed fervently. Rules which Frank and his Freaks exploited at every possible opening.
Of course no plan survives contact with the enemy so it remained to be seen if this would work. Everyone was quiet now, their jobs set, and just waiting for the moment. With Harry’s reactor off he could soon hear the heavy stomps of the opposing mechs. Warsphinx truly were some impressive machines.
Heavier than anything humanity had ever fielded they were quadrupedal mechs which moved with the fluidity and grace of a massive living breathing monster. Two shoulder mounted heavy particle cannons, six torso mounted medium lasers, eight hip mounted missile tubes, two wrist mounted medium pulse carbines, and the crazy bastards had even made a giant mech cleaving halberd for it to wield in its hands. At least, that’s what their main configuration was. Much like human mechs they could be modified to some extent.
Not to mention all the work they’d had to do just trying to keep mechs operational since the shroud descended. Harry was the only mech Frank had that was even running all original tech. Which was part of why it was much stronger than people thought considering its size. Sometimes he wondered what a full contingent of mechs would have been able to do in the Concordat war.
“Approaching the square.” Jorje’s voice brought him back into the moment. Frank checked his monitors and caught sight of the first warsphinx. Its imposing hulk could be made out through the ruined building Harry was hiding in. Head and shoulders taller than Harry, their halberds gleamed in the bright light of the day. They sure looked pretty. These had a white armor with gold trim. Very proud looking. But he had noticed sometimes older more effective armor was traded out for lower quality, yet nicer looking armor. Especially since the church wasn’t getting any more of the old good stuff either. Were these parade mechs? Or battle mechs? He’d find out soon enough.
They were in a standard diamond formation around the hover casket in the middle. The casket was another bit of Concordat tech. Usually a mobile command and control center he could see that the various point defense weapons, and mounted guns, had all been stripped and replaced with holy symbols. He had yet to find a holy symbol that was as effective as a Concordat era railgun.
Just as the warsphinx and the casket reached the square Wally on the other side stepped out from behind the husk of an ancient crashed airship and began to broadcast his message. Wally of course didn’t speak a lick of church talk but Frank had recorded the message to be broadcast over loudspeakers. “[I am warden of this city! All who dare enter must face me in Ongwa or be denied passage! It is my sacred duty to uphold the word of Brydeal against the unknown. Face me now in single combat to prove your heart’s intent!]”
Frank watched, holding his breath a little as the warsphinx paused. Would they open fire anyway? But then they broke formation, pressing ahead of the casket and fanning out in the open square to shield it from Gena. They had to know it was a human mech and not Concordat. But the words drew them in. Then one of the warsphinx stepped ahead of the others, halberd raised high. He was accepting the challenge. Wally maneuvered Gena forward then, raised his weapons in salute, and began to power down his reactor.
The way Ongwa normally worked is each mech would power down, then cycle up and engage in a one on one duel. This was to test not only their skill in combat, but prevent either from holding any weapon charges for an alpha strike. Just as he hoped the lead warsphinx began to power down its reactor. But warsphinx reactors were large and complicated, unlike Gena’s flash reactor. It ran hot, but Wally liked it that way. So the moment it was down Frank gave the signal. “NOW!”
The moment he engaged startup Harry surged to life around him feeding him sensor information directly into his mind through his neuronet. “Reactor online! Sensors online! Weapons online! All systems nominal! Hostiles detected! Target Concordat Warsphinx.”
Even as Harry’s mechanical voice spoke Frank was surging forward through the shattered remains of the building he had been hiding in. Metal and concrete splintered around him as he stepped into the open and targeted the rightmost of the back three warsphinx. “Surprise cockfags!” Sassy was the first to open fire as she used Chuck’s jumpjets to leap into the air above a line of buildings to his left and unleash a full volley of 40 Stiletto missiles right into the back of the far left warsphinx.
If that wasn’t enough even as the missiles slammed into it, Pretzel in Chesire opened up from her previously hidden position with all four of her particle cannons. As the missiles shredded that gleaming white armor the impact of the energy weapons sundered the structure beneath as the whole construct shuddered and ruptured, dead before realizing what had even happened. Frank was already opening up as well, first launching a volley of his 8 shoulder mounted Fang rockets into his target’s back. As the rockets screamed towards the target he was charging Harry’s shoulder mounted railgun and could see the gleam of the magnetic capacitors from the corner of his vision.
Doc in Renke burst out of the building next to him, laying into the same Warsphinx with his two Scalpel class heavy lasers, further melting and marring the armor on the back of the construct. It was starting to turn now, but finally Frank saw the light flick green for his railgun and he fired. The hypervelocity round punched straight through the weakened armor and into the main torso as the machine shuddered and toppled over. The railgun would fire with such velocity that the sudden burst of pressure, followed by extremely violent decompression would typically reduce flesh to a semi-liquid mush. A sight he had witnessed firsthand countless times by now. And what he had likely just done to the hostile construct’s pilot.
Oh what he would give for another railgun. This left just two Warsphinx to go. Wally in Gena was already back online and charging down the front Warsphinx, firing his two arm mounted heavy sluggers with wild abandon as 150mm shell casings the length of his arm came raining out of the ejection ports. While Wally peppered the lead construct Jorje came sprinting out of a side road, not bothering with his two medium lasers as he closed the distance and just unleashed the torrents of fire contained within his mech sized flamethrowers. No doubt the construct’s pilot was being screamed at by his heat sensors right now as he tried to get back online.
“Focusing on Wally’s target!” Sassy announced.
“Doc, Pretzel, focus marked tango!” Frank commanded, lasing the remaining of the back three warsphinx. He had to wait for his shoulder mounted weapons to reload and recharge so he fired the two wrist mounted medium energy carbines he still had available. The blue bolts of plasma peppering the construct as it turned. Doc was already slashing four bright green beams of medium laser fire over it at the same time. He hoped that Pretzel could just give it another salvo of four particle cannon shots to the back and kill it, but this pilot actually knew what he was doing.
The main advantage the Concordat constructs had over human mechs was their ability to move more fluidly, and as Pretzel lined up her shots the construct was bucking and twisting as it surged forward. Firing one at a time she tried to hit the accelerating construct but it would feint and dodge even as she fired. While she did manage to hit its torso once it was now facing Doc and Frank with its full frontal arsenal.
An arsenal it immediately used as two heavy particle cannons opened up on Doc. Thankfully he had twisted Renke to the side as one of the superheated plasma bolts missed, but the other slammed into Renke’s shoulder, rocking the mech as it melted armor by the ton in a flash. It followed this up with a slash of all six torso mounted medium lasers across Renke’s side. Frank surged closer to Doc knowing what would come next. Sure enough a salvo of missiles came streaking towards them, but Harry’s laser anti-missile-system whined as tiny beams of red arced out from the mech’s head rupturing half of the volley before it could impact against Renke’s torso.
Yet, this construct pilot wasn’t done. Even as he rushed towards them he swung his massive halberd and actually tossed the massive thing, driving its blade straight into Renke’s shoulder where it had opened the armor. “Scheisse!” Doc hissed. “Reactor damage! Torso compromised!”
“Fuck!” Frank had only one option now, quickly moving Harry forward between the charging construct and Renke. If it could get to its halberd it would cleave Renke apart. But even as he lined up to shoot Harry was flashing warnings in his vision.
“Collision imminent! Brace for impact!” But Frank had other plans. Still firing his energy crabines full bore the rotary barrels were starting to glow red as the plasma bolts hammered the construct. It raised its arms to defend its head and at the last moment he turned Harry to the side, engaging all his jumpjets to throw the mech to the side. He could feel the metal around him shudder from the effort of the maneuver and his body was pressed down hard in his seat from the g-force.
Yet, even as he barely cleared the rampaging warsphinx he turned off the energy carbines and instead activated his left arm wrist “blade.” Energy spiked in his reactor as a partially contained superheated jet of plasma vented out of the wrist in a vaguely blade shape. While very short range it was quite effective as he immediately severed the construc’s right arm. As momentum kept it moving forward he also gouged a streak straight through the side armor of the warsphinx, and managed to partially cut the back leg as it tumbled and slid across the ground. A cloud of dirt and dust was tossed into the air as the massive construct skidded across the former park, ending its charge.
It was still too close to Renke though as Doc tried to maneuver back into the ruins, denying the warsphinx a chance to grab its halberd from where it was lodged in his shoulder. Frank needed to piss him off. So he activated his loudspeakers. “[Your god is dead! You die by heathen hands today!]” That always pissed off the templars. Sure enough even as the construct rose back up it immediately tried to hit him with its heavy particle cannons, but he was waiting for that and ducked Harry under the shots.
He had a lot less luck with the six medium lasers which arced out across Harry’s chest and torso, but the ancient advanced armor held. The warsphinx then launched a salvo of missiles, four of them making it through the AMS fire to impact across his legs as they went a bit low. Frank just returned the favor by firing his eight tubes back, as the rockets slammed into its chest. This hardly deterred the warsphinx though as it began to charge at him once more. It likely hadn’t realized his jumpjets were what enabled him to lunge like that earlier. A mistake he’d capitalize on.
Both the warsphinx and Frank traded energy carbine fire as the hostile charged his mech. Yet, the moment Harry flashed impact warnings again he jumped, this time straight up, twisting in the air as he did. The warsphinx reached up, trying to snag his leg just as he cleared its head. “Boom.” He triggered his railgun, nearly point blank into the construct’s head. The round punched straight through the face of the metal beast and into its chest. It immediately slumped forward, the whole thing losing control as it slumped into the ground, once more carried by the immense momentum of its charge. It came to rest near the other two dead warsphinx, like they’d been executed by firing squad. “Headshot.”
“Show off.” Pretzel muttered over the combat channel. Before Frank could properly celebrate though a host of warnings flashed across his screen.
“Warning! Critical reactor meltdown imminent! Proceed to a safe distance!” The back of the warsphinx began to visibly spark and crackle.
“Fuck! Bastard had a dead man's switch! Pull back!” He realized during the fight the casket hadn’t moved. Without it he didn’t get paid. So he quickly flicked off his weapon systems, dumping everything he had left into jumpjets and cooling. Angling Harry to land back down just beside the hovering vehicle he used the mech’s hands to grab the casket and literally shove it in front of him. Harry’s legs moving as quick as he could make them to run the casket away from the explosion behind him.
His rear cameras darkened automatically but he could see a distinct shadow of his mech before him when the warsphinx reactor finally went critical. Those nearly pristine constructs they’d killed first would have been prime salvage. Now reduced to slag as a massive blue mushroom cloud rose up from the self immolating construct. “Fuuuuck me.” Frank muttered as he finally stopped shoving the casket forward. “Team, sound off.”
“Pretzel, clear and cool.” He wasn’t surprised.
“Sarah, clear no damage, down 120.” Three missile salvos. Not bad.
“Jorje, clear but hot, light grazing.” Not a surprise.
“Wally, clear medium grazing, down 63, very hot hot hot. Need to piss myself cool down.” Frank winced a bit as Wally announced that. Also he’d fired off that many rounds? The sluggers were more expensive than missiles.
“Doc, clear but limping. Reactor ist damaged but contained. Frame damaged unt bent. Shoulder servos kaput. Unt zere is ein hellebarde stuck in me.” If the reactor wasn’t pierced then he’d be fine. But Renke would be out of action for a while. Still… Four warsphinx for only a damaged Fusilier class? Not terrible.
But the real prize was in front of him. He looked down at the casket, whose only damage were the mech sized finger prints gouged into the front where he’d grabbed it. He switched over to the support channel then. “The fight is over. Astrud, get Valencia and Smooch over here.”
“Already oscar mike my darling. Arriving momentarily.” Frank would never tell Jorje this to his face, but his wife’s voice was sexy as hell. When she would sing those old songs? Phenomenal. Still he could see their truck driving up the old road towards him. He wanted to be here for this so he unfastened his harness.
“Harry, sentry mode. Set me on the casket.” The hatch into the cockpit hissed open behind him and Frank twisted to squeeze out of the seat and out of the hatch. Harry had reached back to offer a large mech hand for him to step onto. Then he was easily swung around and set onto the deck of the casket as Harry towered over him now. The long “ears” of his sensors twitching and turning as he maintained vigil.
Astrud was bringing the truck to a stop right next to the hovering casket as he walked along the top deck. Would they have guards inside? He sort of figured they would have come out to fight earlier if there were any. But he still drew his sidearm just in case, chambering a round as he approached the door. Just as he opened it though he had to recoil from the smell. It was a mixture of incredibly acrid smoke, and… shit?
He peaked in a moment to see that the crew, mostly Kelvirians and Luthpic, were strewn across the floor. Some were at their seats, others were sprawled on the floor. The terminals and control consoles were sparking as some had been destroyed, and the once immaculate deck plating was smeared with blood and other bodily fluids. He carefully looked at the furred Kelvirians, and scaled Luthpic for cause of death. Both were very typical church worshiping species. Not the ruling class, but well above undesirables like Feroat. What he was wondering was what the fuck had happened. It took him a moment to realize they’d been executed. One shot to the back of the head for almost every body. Except a few in the side of the head, and one in the eye.
Frank had seen plenty of death, but this was odd to him. Who had executed them? “[Heathen! You will not sully my soul! I die pure of heart!]” Frank ducked behind a large holotable, which had been painted over with religious scriptures instead of a functioning display. Peering over the top he saw one last Kelvirian in the back. Having hidden behind a large Concordat container. It was wearing heavy gold robes, clutching a church sanctified pistol. He could see the dangling incense censer on the handle. The xeno began to aim at him as he ducked back down.
“[Let us talk this out!]” He called out, but then heard a gunshot followed by a thump. Confused for a moment he waited, and heard nothing. So he looked back over for a moment and saw the Kelvirian was now dead. Frank hesitantly got up out of cover, pistol at the ready. But nothing moved. So he approached to see the Kelvirian, a Dataseer by the look of his robes, had apparently killed himself. “Fuck was that about?”
“Ugh! What is that stench?” He turned around, looking to see Smooch in the doorway, clutching her tail and holding it to her muzzle to try and help with the smell.
“Death.” Frank answered simply and holstered his pistol. “Death and incense I think.”
“Disgusting…” Smooch carefully tried to pick her way through the bodies, hopping over them to avoid the worst pools of blood. Waving a hand to try and clear some of the smoke away as she made her way to the Concordat container. The symbols on it meant nothing to him, but she gasped the moment she saw them, even letting go of her tail. “Do you know what this is?!”
“Not a clue.” Frank didn’t bother lying.
“It’s… this…” Smooch began to mutter something in her church talk. Too low for him to catch. Probably a sermon. “This can’t be here. This… This is… This marks the true seal of Brydeal! These… The last container like this proclaimed the first Luminex Maximus! These runes… This isn’t some mere artifact…”
“Open it.” Frank was truly curious now as he stepped up besides her, watching her run her hands along the top almost lovingly.
“I cannot. I am surely not worthy. For this can only be opened by-” Frank didn’t let her finish as he grabbed a hand and pressed it to the scanner in the center. She gasped out but then the top of the container hissed and the seals popped off one by one. So then she gasped louder as it opened. They both stood there for a moment until suddenly a red link flickered over Frank’s face.
“Sonuva-” He clutched at his eyes after being nearly blinded but then heard it let out an error noise of some kind. Just as he blinked away the blinding dots in his eyes he saw it scanning Smooch and there was a chime. The lid of the crate flashed as it suddenly turned into a large display. A display of Smooch. Well… not quite Smooch. It looked a lot like her, but with different robes, small glowing antlers, and stained glass wings. “Why does that look like you? And that thing on your neck? Isn't that the seal of your space pope?”
The only answer he got was for Smooch besides him to feint, he barely caught her as her small body slumped back, nearly landing in a puddle of blood. He more carefully picked her up then making sure she was breathing before looking back at the display. The gears were turning in his head as he realized what this might mean. He immediately opened the support channel. “Guys. I think we’re going to make even more money than we’ve ever dreamed.”
“What? How?” Pretzel asked, immediately suspicious.
“I’m pretty sure Smooch is the next space pope.” Even if she wasn’t… he was going to try and make her one.
“How does that make us rich?” Sassy asked.
“Because I think we get to be the new space pope’s personal guard. And all the tithes that come with such a position. Although… there’s also a chance we’re going to be starting a holy war.” He highly doubted anyone in the church would welcome Heathens as templars. Especially humans.
“Fuck it, I always wanted to start one of those.” Pretzel replied, somewhat uncharacteristic of her. But he knew she could also imagine the money.
“So Freaks. Holy war?” Frank asked, and was of course answered with a resounding echoing reply from all of them.
“Holy war!”