October 04, 4021 06:00 [Lahab Mutajamid Desert]
The desert was still frigid when the troops readied themselves for an arduous march across the barren land in the dawning hours of the morning. Buzzards flew above the regiments as they shuffled along the sand in Crawlers; beastly machines that took the form of scarab beetles. Akula observed his leaders calmly; Temujin sat hunched over his notes, poring over them as he reviewed their formations and methods of communication with Hart.
The theoretics of each form and its use had been drilled into their heads ad nauseum for some time now, though Akula felt a certain unease about putting these tactics into effect. The principles were just that—principles. Yet, their implementation in the present circumstances would solidify that they were truly at war with another people. Though the borders remained tenuous to navigate, it had always been accepted as fact that conflict arose at a territory's edge. Whether the retaliation was just or not, he could not say. The details surrounding the catalyst for their deployment were hazy, but Akula knew one thing: where they were going, few would return, and even fewer would return whole.
It had felt like an eternity since they had arrived at Matriarch 03, walking through the gates with nothing but the clothes on their backs and the sparse items they could carry with them. He never prayed, not because he didn’t believe in omnipotence—that much had been proven centuries ago—but for the simple fact that he didn’t believe in miracles of faith. Every occurrence had a reason behind it, no matter how inconsequential it seemed in the grand scheme of things. Today, however, he was a pious man, praying for their safety and return. He would keep an eye on his wards, Aisha especially. He trusted Mirai’s ability to adapt after seeing his progress since their initial introduction to the Uturian behemoths of old.
The Lancers trailed behind them, transported on vast floating palettes, drawn by a line of Crawlers. The pilots, excluding Hart, sat atop their respective machines alongside the mechanics. Akula raised his head to the sky, a squadron of aerial craft above them, flying steadily in formation. Once they reached their destination, they were to oversee the distribution of rations, arms, and munitions, tending to the wounded as they returned from the frontlines, nothing more. For all its intents and purposes, however, Akula did not believe that the network would remain unscathed.
It would be wise of the enemy to target them, cutting off much-needed supplies from their soldiers. After all, if the rumors were to be believed, the network would be key to winning the war and perhaps bringing it to a rather swift end. There had been whispers of a miracle drug developed by the enigmatic Vultures of the fourth Matriarch. Shipments of this supplement would be arriving in the coming weeks, and it was of the utmost importance that these shipments remained undisturbed along their journey into the hands of the Homunculi vanguard.
Why they had decided to ship this drug so late was beyond Akula’s understanding; he had only heard in passing that it had been formed in part thanks to sample tissue taken from a Homunculus with a rare healing factor. He pitied the poor fool, imagining the feeling of flesh rended forcibly from one’s body. Still, the drug would prove paramount to their success. Healers need not be present on the battlefield to treat most injuries. They would only serve to mend wounds that the drug could not.
“How long do you think it’ll last?
“Hm?”
“The war,” Akula stated. “How long do you think it’ll last?”
“There’s no way of telling,” Hart sighed, stretching languidly as if he were on the beach. “It could be days, weeks, months, maybe even years. Who’s to say?”
“Do they even have the resources to last that long?”
“Not sure. Our sources say they don’t, but they could’ve been stockpiling their reserves all this time to prepare for situations like this. We won’t know for certain until we’re in the thick of things. I’d suggest you operate under the assumption that they do and that they’re prepared to prolong this fight as long as possible to weaken us.”
“I thought they were going to hit us with everything they have—sort of like a last-ditch effort,” Akula remarked.
“That too—that could also happen. My point is, be prepared for anything and everything. Just like we’ve been drilling into your heads,” Hart replied.
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“Yeah, I got it.” Akula turned to Temujin, still buried in his notes. “How are you going to direct your divisions if you’re staying here to protect the supply line?” he asked.
The Hyena procured a device from his breast pocket without looking away, showing it to Akula. “We’ll be relaying orders remotely, through these. They send a series of signals that only other devices of the same model can parse. Even if the frequency is intercepted, decoding the messages will take more time than it’s worth.”
“Couldn’t the enemy just steal one off of a dead soldier?”
Temujin shook his head. “These are coded to read biosignatures. If the user dies or they’re captured, there are methods to automatically activate a self-destruct sequence that ensures our messages won’t be cracked with ease.”
The safeguards did little to give Akula any reassurance. It wasn’t a guaranteed blanket of protection for their communications. Then again, nothing was guaranteed out here. He glanced back at the others. Slump and Ghost sat next to each other, neither in the mood to speak. Skadi and Gauss were seated behind them. The latter sat on the edge of the Crawler watching the Lancers with what Akula could only assume was a wistful gaze. Skadi reclined on the back seats, staring at nothing in particular. Her eyes flitted to Akula and they exchanged knowing looks.
“How will we know when we get there?” he asked, eager to break the silence.
“The climate will shift. Levante’s side of the desert is near a frozen mountain range spanning the north of Dvaita,” Ghost explained.
“So, is it covered in ice or something?”
“Not quite. The snow from the mountains melts and flows into the river, providing Levante with a lush environment and natural resources. With that being said, the weather there is unpredictable and they get frequent blizzards and ice storms from strong winds and low temperatures, as well as the occasional avalanche.”
“That…doesn’t sound very lush,” Akula remarked.
“They’ve built shields to ward off the storms,” Hart interjected. “Their soldiers wear armor that incorporates the same type of shielding so they can operate at full capacity in the harshest of environments.”
“You mentioned them before; Stormcloaks. Soldiers that act as a mix between Crows and Owls,” Akula replied.
“Exactly. Levantan engineers are no slouches. They’ve managed to harness control over the ice with their weapons technology as well,” Hart stated.
The Crawlers suddenly came to a halt, the machinery thrumming as the vehicles sat idle. Temujin stood up from his seat, clicking furiously on the device in his hand. Hart followed suit jumping from the Crawler to the palette carrying his Lancer. Akula observed as regiments of soldiers exited their vehicles, kicking up dust as they landed on the soft sand. Compartments on the sides of the Crawlers extended outward revealing weapons and ammunition. The soldiers grabbed these from the carriers, arming themselves. Akula heard a series of clicks happen in unison as safeties were switched off.
The soldiers knelt in the sand, their aims trained on the horizon. The Lancers whirred to life as the pilots started their machines, waiting for the mechanics to unfasten their harnesses before sliding off their palettes.
The aerial squadrons overhead fell into defensive formations, causing Skadi to snap to attention. She alerted the others, rolling off the edge of the Crawler to access the Garuda armor. Akula followed her to the ground as she entered the suit, testing the interlocking joints and flexing her fingers. The armor was sleek and aerodynamic, outfitted with viridian plates of metal and wings that came with jet exhausts attached.
The rest joined them in the sand, while Ghost remained in the Crawler. The top of the vehicle closed over her head, keeping her protected inside. Temujin exchanged a silent glance with Gauss causing him to leap to the shoulder of False//Frame, joining Mirai and the rest of the Lancer crew.
“Shouldn’t he be with us?” Akula questioned.
Temujin shook his head. “Slight change of plans. He’ll be more useful there.”
Akula looked to the horizon, squinting his eyes to make out the perceived threat.
“Switch on short-wave communication,” Temujin ordered. “Dot—”
“I hear you loud and clear, sir. Enemy sighted, twelve o’clock—straight ahead,” Dot replied over the speaker.
“I’ll need you to take down their cloaking effects,” Temujin said.
“Already on it. They seem to be using reflectin mimicking technology to reimage their surroundings externally. Unfortunately for them, if you break the synthesized aromatic compounds, like so” —a disruption charge was launched from the pink Lancer’s shoulder cannon— “their camouflage will cease to remain,” Dot said with a flourish.
The charged shot collided with something in the distance, a ripple of energy distorting the air until it seemed to erode and peel back, revealing a fortress so large that it dwarfed even the Lancers. It sat on a series of tracked wheels. Cannons lined the sides of its battlements, powering on as Levantan soldiers ran atop the ramparts preparing for combat. Railguns and turrets mounted in the center of the fortified walls were aimed their way.
“I don’t feel very chilly yet,” Akula remarked. “Guess our friends couldn’t wait until we got there.”
“All units have been deployed,” Temujin stated calmly. “Commence subjugation of the Levantan Mobile Fortress!”