A dying system, an endless war.
The Purgatory slipped through, the ship was small enough and advanced enough that the defenses of Nouva Havana wouldn’t track them. Not that it would have mattered, the planet’s defenses had enough problems with the battle raging both in the void of space and on the planet itself.
Mapno didn’t know who was fighting, it didn’t matter, it wasn’t his problem. The Purgatory fired its cannon twice as it skimmed over the planet of Nouva Havana, the second shot coming ten seconds after the first. He made his final preparations as the capsule he was in began to break through the planet’s atmosphere, the visor of his neuro-helm began to dim his vision, blocking out the light from the burning oxygen and other chemicals outside of the protective shell.
Engines and systems on his mechanoid were green, all checks and diagnostics came back solid. The machine’s manipulators gripped once. Fifteen meter’s tall, clad in durable alloy, armed with state of the art weaponry, the Mechanoid is a war machine of a long dead age. And Mapno is one of the percentile few that knew how to pilot one.
“Ground Visual” A voice called over his neuro-helm’s comm system.
The pilot known as Raijin was hundreds of kilometers away, also barreling towards the ground at mach speed. Twenty seconds until impact now, the pyrotechnic fasteners holding the capsule together exploded, splitting the dark green shell into four pieces. Mapno gripped the control sticks hard and pulled his mechanoid so the feet of the machine were perpendicular to the dirt.
The boosters in the feet, back pack, and palms of the mechanoid came alive, slowing the descent, ten seconds now. The mechanoid’s left leg jutted out of line, but Mapno managed to bring it back into position, five seconds.
There was a battle going on not far from his Landing Zone. Both sides road in Armored Troopers, or AT’s for short. Comparatively primitive to the Mechanoid, these machines were the forlorn successor of their golden era counter parts. But they were easy to produce, and therefore most would-be Nations fielded them by the thousands.
Impact imminent.
Even with the aid from the boosters, the Mechanoid crashed into the ground with vicious fury. Mud, grass, and dirt exploded from the ground as if a small warhead was set off. Mapno grunted, even with the Mechanoid’s impact dampener, he still felt the diffuser installed into the spine of his pilot suit straighten and lock up, and the crash pads in his helmet inflate.
From the crater stepped the mechanoid, A black carapace with blue tinted pauldrons and arms, it wore the face of an angry demon, it’s teeth pointing from it’s lower jaw. A compartment from the side of the mechanoid opened, and Mapno used the machine’s arm manipulators to draw a firearm. A cannon chambered in 57mm armor piercing rounds, the magazine holds 30 rounds all together, a box magazine ejected from this weapon would crush most civilian model automobiles.
On his Mechanoid’s right arm was a weapon known as a hydraulpike. A large metal spike that would be launched forward from its compartment and then retracted over a short distance. A weapon used to kill the pilot rather than destroy the mech.
“Save the metal, kill the meat.” Is a common phrase used by mech pilots, Mechanoid or otherwise.
“I’m at the LZ. No problems here.” Mapno announced.
He had a particular accent, his family had spoken a language that most forgot the name of for most of his life. A hold over from before the Long War, when they remembered where Terra was, or even if it was real.
“Ditto.” Raijin responded. “We got a lot of locals in the way. We might have to deal with that.”
Raijin also spoke with an accent, although it was different to Mapno’s, the origin was just as unknown. It was just how they spoke on his end of the Migrant fleet.
“Your objective is clear.” The voice over the comm announced. “Try to keep combat to a minimum, this is supposed to be a smash and grab.”
Both pilots responded with a quick “Affirmative” Before they began their advance.
Mapno’s Mechanoid was a newer model, or as new as mechanoids got. It was named the “Mulligan” by it’s former pilot, a name the crew of the purgatory decided to keep. The exhausts across the machine’s legs and back came to life before it began to launch itself through the air. A mechanoid didn’t fly or hover like other war machines, but instead it jumped, and glided towards its destination, having to land every so often only to leap again. When it had to stay low then it could ‘skate’ as to say, moving more like a tread vehicle than a legged one.
He monitored his visuals, small blips appearing on his HUD in the distance, both marked orange for “Unknown”. But it was safe to say that they wouldn’t be friendly. Small explosions peppered the landscape in the distance as AT after AT was destroyed in an endless line battle, even from this distance he could hear the roar of monstrous fire arms. They haven’t noticed him, either too busy with their own battles or their scanners didn’t pick up Mulligan.
He found himself wondering sometimes who these people were. Not from one of the three major nations, thousands, if not tens of thousands, of minor nation-states, banana republics, juntas, dictatorships - fascist, communist, or otherwise, and hopeful democracies struggled to survive among three, ever growing, unstoppable monsters. Mapno guessed that New Havana had some sort of dictator that died, or pulled some shit that pushed the populous too far. It was probably some form of “Freedom Fighter” fighting loyalists down there. They might win, and will probably replace the leader, only to become the same monster. He’s seen it before, it’s happened before, it will happen again.
He moved to avoid conflict, dodging patrols and circumventing engagements. This wasn’t his fight, they were only here to achieve a goal, obtain an object that would only help the Migrant Fleet. He wasn’t told what it was, but he knew where to look, and that was good enough for him.
“ETA 10 minutes.” Raijin announced over the comm. “Had some trouble along the way.”
“You’re not being intercepted?” Mapno asked.
“No, no. They didn’t get a distress out.” Raijin explained. “They’ll chock it up to an ambush, if they even find it before we leave.”
Raijin rode inside the Fury Road. It was an older model than the Mulligan, and Mapno preferred it in some ways. Heavier, slower, but better armed, and mean as hell. It was a mix of red and white, its face a blank visor with two red slits for eyes, like the face of an armored knight from ancient days of old.
Mulligan skidded into the empty streets of the city beyond. Wrecked AT’s littered the streets with human corpses peppered in between. A battle happened here not long ago, some of the machines still smoked. He had to hurry, but still managed to peak at the wreckage that were once Armored Troopers.
“Raijin.” He spoke over the comm.
“What?” Raijin responded.
“I got some EK’d Armored Troopers here.” Mapno explained. “These aren’t AT weapon wounds.”
EK was short for “Engine kill”, when the fusion core within the machine went critical from damage, it usually ended with the pilot being vaporized. Sometimes they weren’t lucky, and burned to death in their cockpits.
“What do you mean?”
“Looks like---”
Mapno cut the comm short, bringing the Mulligan to a stop and dashing backwards. The ground before him shattered into concrete dust as a bolt of plasma smashed into the street. He moved his own head to look around, the neuro-helmet sending impulses into Mulligan’s head part to mimic the movement. With his visor tirelessly connected to the eyes of his machine, Mapno spotted something along the rooftops above.
He brought his auto cannon to bare and fired a quick burst of three rounds. The sandstone building shattered like a doll house, and the Mechanoid standing above leaped from the roof tops to the street below. It wore no colors he recognized, the machine’s eyes gleaming to life as the pilot turn the machine to face the Mulligan.
“I got contact…” Mapno announced with a grit of his teeth. “Sensors coming back blank, no designation on this Mechanoid.”
“Mechanoid!?” Said Raijin. “Intel said there are none on Nouva Havana.”
“I don’t think this one is local.” Mapno explained.
Mapno had already put his Mechanoid into reverse as he talked to Raijin, raising his cannon and firing down the road. The unknown twisted into a spin and smashed shoulder first into the nearby building, the two rounds Mapno had gotten off crashed into the street in the distance. The unknown raised it’s own weapon and fire, a large, glue like ball erupted from the barrel singing the concrete below. The ball missed its mark and hit the sidewalk of the street, melting the concrete, the lamp post, and the side of the building nearby.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Plasma wasn’t common, it was rare and expensive, whoever this was, they were well off. Mulligan and the unknown began a dance of death, auto-cannon rounds and plasma exchanged between the two. Mapno noticed it right away, the enemy machine moved almost 1:1, like the pilot was wearing the Mechanoid like a second layer of skin.
Mapno cursed as a bolt of plasma narrowly missed his machine, the hyper-heated material caused Mulligan’s shoulder pauldron to bubble and melt. He removed a hand from his left control stick and pressed a series of buttons. He had his suspicion now, these movements were far too natural.
There was the sound of ports opening, nozzles straightened as a black-violet liquid poured through a set of tubes that attached to Mapno’s pilot suit, located across his spine, shoulders, and neck. He inhaled sharply, his heartbeat quickening and his senses sharpening as the combat stims flowed through his blood stream. His pupils dilated, and he gritted his teeth hard enough that he thought that he would dislodge a tooth, but now he could keep up with this unknown.
It felt as though time moved at half the speed it did before, he could pin point the movement of The Unknown’s weapon arm now, allowing him to move in sync with the weapon’s fire. He was down to 8 rounds now in his auto-cannon, and he didn’t have the time, nor the distance to reload. But this close, it could be an advantage. Mapno charged forward in the Mulligan, bearing down on the plasma gun aimed at him. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for the finger on the Unknown’s manipulator to squeeze down.
Mulligan halted as the plasma gun lit up, and then dashed to the left in a pirouetted spin. Mapno could almost feel the heat from the plasma on his own skin as the shot passed his machine, the neck, arm, and leg bubbled. In his pirouette, he brought his right arm weapon to bare, and pushed forward with a fist.
The fist crashed into the chest of the Unknown, and then there was a loud sound half a second later, as if a hundred rifles had just went off at the same time. The Hydraulpike launched forward into the chest armor of the Unknown. There was a sickening sound of metal separating metal as the pike punched into the cockpit of the enemy.
The Unknown Mechanoid stood frozen, weapon still raised before it’s arms went limp, the body of the machine began to hang from the pike like a ragdoll. Mulligan pushed its arm forward, launching the lifeless machine into a wrecked AT nearby.
It was a shame, the Unknown was a good machine, but they didn’t have the resources to extract it at this time, and who knows what kind of tracking devices it might have installed. Mapno grimaced, almost hesitating to look at the pike he had just used to kill the pilot inside the Unknown Mechanoid.
The pike glistened with a bright blue fluid. It was the color of blood, but not human blood, or at least not a natural human. He sighed and turned his comm on.
“Mulligan to Fury Road.” He announced. “Enemy Mechanoid is down. But we have a problem.”
“I ran into some resistance as well. What did you find out?” Raijin asked.
“I got blue blood on my pike…” Mapno explained.
“Blue blood… Vanir?”
“Looks that way.”
“Fuck.” Raijin cursed. “You sure its an Imp? Could be some kind of Merc, or-- Or a separatist?”
“Since when do the Vanir separate?” Mapno asked in return.
“It was worth a shot…” Raijin sighed. “Okay...Moving to the objective. ETA: 2 minutes.”
“Roger. On my way.”
Mapno shut off his comm. He took one last look at the dead machine, and then went on his way.
--
Two minutes later, objective dead ahead. It was a large building in the center of the city, a military warehouse of some sort. Most of Nouva Havana’s money went into places like this, holding “Secret weapons” that were usually missile trucks or outdated weapon platforms. But this one held something secret, something that the Vanir Star Empire also seemed to want. The defense AT’s had been melted, as well as whatever weapons platforms had supported them. The Mechanoid that Mapno had fought earlier made quick work of these guys.
Mulligan’s scanners came back with a blue outline ahead, Raijin and Fury Road had reached their destination.
“I see you.” Mapno announced. “Linking up now.”
“What are we even looking for?” Raijin asked.
“I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it should be held in a vault somewhere.”
“I don’t like this. Everything is lining up too nicely.” Raijin grumbled. “Who’d command get this tip off from anyway?”
“They didn’t say, but it was trustworthy enough to send us out here.” Mapno explained. “That’s good enough for me.”
The two looked for a time before finally finding a large, metal door roughly fifty meters in height and width underneath an AT refueling hangar.
“Okay…” Mapno inhaled. “Transferring the code command gave us now…”
“Wait.” Raijin placed Fury Road’s palm on Mulligan’s melted Pauldron. “Are you alright?”
Mulligan’s head turned.
“What do you mean?” Mapno asked.
“You just took a major dosage of Stim, man.” Protested Raijin. “If it wasn’t for that pilot suit, you’d probably be dead.”
“I’m fine.” Mapno responded, half as a reassurance and half as a dismissal. “You’re talking in slow motion, but...I’m fine.”
Fury Road remained still for another few moments before it lifted the manipulator from Mulligan’s pauldron.
“Alright…” Raijin muttered. “Lets get this over with.
The code transferred successfully and the vault came to life, the door opened loudly, gears and wheels turning from the other side. The Vanir, if that’s who the now dead pilots actually were, either couldn’t find the vault or didn’t have the right material to open it. If they didn’t pick Mulligan and Fury Road up on their sensors on the way into the city, then you might have gotten the drop on them.
The vault opened to a large stair case, more than capable of holding almost a dozen mechanoids across. On each side of the stair case was a foundry elevator vehicles and humans on foot. The two entered side by side weapons drawn, as they advanced, the lights above began to turn on. Finally, after minutes of walking, the machines reached another vault door that began to open upon their arrival. The two entered, and again, the lights above turned on.
What stood before them was a throne of iron, tubes connected on a mechanical figure sitting in the center. It was a mechanoid, but it was a model like neither Mapno nor Raijin have ever see. Large, sleek, it was beautiful in a way. The machine was painted ashen grey with stripes of crimson red. Along it’s chest, the Mechanoid had a tabard tied with a golden sash. Along its back was a set of wings colored of brass iron, they sat motionless on the back of the mechanoid.
Mapno didn’t say anything, but instead ran his sensors, his eyes trailing with the information on his HUD screen. Raijin whistled a low, long tune.
“I’ve never seen a mech like this before… I guess that’s what command sent us to find…” Raijin commented.
“We need to hurry..!” Mapno ordered, clicking his view HUD away.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Asked Raijin.
“There’s someone inside.” Mapno explained. “And they’re still alive.”
--
He wasn’t sure where he was. A dream? A memory? Or just a vision? The void around his Mechanoid erupted with terrible violence. Each explosion was as though a star expanded in an instant and then died, and with one thousands of lives were sent to oblivion. He did his best to avoid the brunt of the slaughter, but in this carnage it was difficult to avoid fire, enemy or otherwise. Beams of light streaked across space, warships went down in flames and then exploded in the dozens.
The stars had become a graveyard of metal, the frustration almost overwhelmed him. All the effort, the allies they gathered, and the planning, completely. Now, millions lie dead across the stars.
He halted his machine, using his forward thrusters to stabilize himself in zero-G. The thing they had come here to destroy was moving now. Four wheels began to rotate around one another in a sphere, a machine large enough to engulf a sun, its core became brighter and brighter, the wheels spun faster and faster.
Then it’s eyes opened.
The man yelped in shock, rising from his rest and quickly falling off the side of his elevated position. He was in a bed, wires and IV tubes stuck out from his arms and back, several popped out as he hit the ground. He groaned and held his head, the lights above burned his eyes when he tried to look upwards.
He had to allow his eye’s adjust, the ringing in his ears vanishing and replaced by the soft hum of something nearby. He followed the sound and spotted something floating around him, tilting its metallic head from side to side. He recognized it as an auto-doc, a kind of personal assistant for medical professionals, although this one seemed to have been the victim of a multitude of ad-hoc repairs and modifications. Its arm manipulator was from a Sorter, a completely different kind of assistant bot all together, and both its eyes were models he didn’t recognize.
The Auto-doc opened its front compartment and presented him with two little pills, pain killers, from what he could tell. He groaned and pushed it away, getting up on his feet with an unsteady waver. The auto-doc watched him curiously as he stumbled towards the sink against the furthest wall, slipping and falling to his knees after a stumble down a short pair of stairs from the slab he was asleep upon. He rose again and approached the sink, twisting the knobs until the water was a comfortable temperature.
He leaned forward and splashed his face with water, inhaling deeply after a quick wipe of his face with his hands. The man looked himself in the mirror above the sink. His hair was a short length, silken white, it hadn’t grown since he had last cut it. He looked into his own deep crimson eyes and then examined his pale skin. How long has it truly been?
“Find me.”
The voice rang through his mind like an echo through a steel corridor. He perked upwards and looked around.
“I’m not far.” The voice spoke again. “Find me.”
The God Machine, it called to him. How long had he been separated from it? He began to stumble again towards the door of the infirmary, the Auto-Doc whistled once as he left and then returned to it’s other duties.
The voice called again, and he followed it. The infirmary was, luckily to him, unguarded. Whoever this ship belonged to, they didn’t mean him any harm, still, he stayed hidden. A duo of armed guards passed him not long after, taking a right down the hallway opposite from where he hid. He waited a few breaths, and then continued. They, at the very least, looked human.
The hallways were dark, only now and then a florescent light above marked his way, it gave him ample room to stay hidden. The voice grew louder, he was going in the right direction.
“Here.” The voice commanded as the man approached a door. He pressed his hand on the button beside the door, and it slid open without protest. Slowly, he entered what appeared to be a hangar, hiding behind crates of supplies and working machines, it was much better lit than the hallway he had just left.
--
“Find anything yet?” Mapno asked.
“Not a damn thing.” The mechanic grimaced and shook his head, looking at the data-slate in his hand.
While the mechanic wore the simple dark-gray uniform of any mechanic aboard a Gaian vessel, the rest of him wasn’t what you could call “human”. His animal-like ears flickered and a tail swished back and forth, and although he appeared to see perfectly well, he stood with his head towards the data-slate, his eyes seemingly shut. The man resembled an orange fox, an animal from old earth, though he possessed the stature and structure of a human. If he was human before, he was human no longer. On the right breast of his uniform read the name ‘Kojuen’.
“I checked every database, both pre and post Long-War. This thing doesn’t come up at all.” Kojuen explained.
Mapno winced at the information, he turned his head to the left and looked over the twenty-meter tall Mechanoid sitting in the hangar near them. They couldn’t get the thing to move through remote suggestion, and instead had to carry both it and the throne it sat upon towards their escape vessel.
“But that’s not even the weirdest thing. Here—” Kojuen handed the data-slate to Mapno.
Mapno looked over the data, the synthetic muscle they used for the mechanoid frames were already leagues above what he was use to. But then something caught his eye, there was a ripple along the synthetic material, every so slightly, like a humming vibration.
“What is that?” Mapno asked.
“When we tried to cut through the machine, the muscle fibers would close up before we could get any real tools in. So I looked into it, those vibrations are healing the synthetic muscles underneath the armor plating.”
“That can’t be right…” Mapno shook his head.
“That’s what I said…” Kojuen looked away from Mapno and towards the Mechanoid before them. “This thing had to have come with some insane gear. Whoever dusted this thing probably had a hell of a time prying its weapons away from it…”
“Where did this Mechanoid even come from…?” Mapno asked.
“I’d be happy if I just knew its name.” Kojuen sighed.
“V-Varindel…”
Mapno drew his side arm and spun around, surprised to see the pilot they had managed to pry out of the machine with the escape hatch. He stood in a patient’s garment, struggling to stay on his feet. He looked away from the two and pointed at the Mechanoid towering above them.
“T-the...The Mechanoid’s name i-i-is Varindel…”