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Chapter 3 - We Fly - Part 2
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I had today gained first-hand experience of the difference between a regular ace and someone like Templar. But as a mechanic, I already knew the legendary difference between ordinary mechs, Vijiaks, and the vastly superior Casnels. Not that I’ve ever seen one in person; they are rare, exceptionally so, and with good reason. It was a Casnel that– well, that isn’t the point.
Technically, anything made with thirty-three percent or more Goibhniu concentration, but especially in terms of mechs, is called a ‘Casnel’. Goibhniu is without question the greatest metal for war that there is. It's like a cheat code for real life! It conducts energy better than any alternative and is more heat resistant by a factor of two over the next alternative. Its armour rating is the highest of any metal while being lighter than almost all others to boot.
It would be fair to say that making mechs or warships out of Goibhniu creates weapons on a whole other level. For example, Templar's mech the Crusade, which is only a Vijiak, with less than 33% Goibhniu concentration, but what it does have is what counts. Its shield, sword, and lance are all ‘Goibhniu Armaments’. That's why those Mleue couldn't pierce Templar’s defences with their rifles, why his sword and lance could cut so confidently through enemy armour without risk of breaking or getting stuck.
Now imagine a mech who's entire body is made of that same metal, as close to impenetrable as you can get, with a generator that can run for days compared to a Vijaik’s active time of just a few hours.
But there is a caveat, a reason why we aren't all using Casnels. Goibniu is rare, really rare.
It is also expensive to both mine and manufacture into these deadly weapons. It wasn't until just eleven years ago, two years into our great war of independence, that TSU released just how obscenely powerful Goibhniu could be if processed in the correct manner. But this left them with an issue, with so many civilisations throughout history treating the metal like a reasonably useless mineral due to the complexity of forging it into anything that wasn't delicate: Most of the deposits of it on the planet Bhaile have been covered over by cities. It is estimated millions would have to be relocated to get to some of the largest depositories, and even the almighty States Union couldn't live down that level of public backlash.
Since their inception, Casnels have remained trump cards, deployed carefully and varying wildly in their abilities and designs. Every one of them can single-handedly sink fleets and change entire battlefields, but equally, each one still has the potential to be destroyed, costing a small fortune with every loss.
There have probably only been a couple dozen active on all sides of the war at any given point. As far as I know, Remembrance only has three or four in total.
If seventy were to be deployed all at once, doubling if not tripling the number currently active, it would be equivalent to a genuine doomsday weapon. Seventy supercharged rifle blasts all in a single moment. That's effectively seventy warships, the sinking of an entire fleet in an instant. That's the sort of power we're talking about.
Just the image that inspires in my mind, of our entire home fleet standing proud above our beloved red planet, only to turn into a barrage of glowing white orbs in an instant. The rushing heat of the rifle fire, the searing of metal, the meltdown of reactors… People dying in their thousands, most of whom never even seeing the enemy that inflicted this upon them. Utter devastation.
My face was not the only pale one, and for once, I doubt I’m the only one daydreaming about the possibilities. Captain Katherine has lost her usual cocksure smile, Lt Vikta, who rarely emotes in any fashion, is outright scowling and even Templar's stoic face has a slight twitch to it. All except Chief Gros, whose smile is downright jolly, “Heh, good work, new kid. I'll make a mechanic out of you yet. Hmmm? What's with the glum faces you lot? We have their processors, remember? And before long, Johnny will get their flight coordinates. We can go to whatever secret base these things are being made in and nick 'em before they can finish production. Turn those frowns upside down and imagine seventy Casnels on our side!”
I can barely believe what he is suggesting. Surely, such a mission would be suicide. TSU wouldn't just hand over a number of machines that had probably cost the GDP of a couple small country to make. Is Gros mad?
But before anyone can protest, the real purpose of his words becomes apparent; the youngest member of our prisoners can no longer hold his temper at Gros'es boastful words and leering grin, “You barbarian scum! Just try it, you will all be crushed. Ten of the units are almost complete, and I'm sure they can fight just fine with temporary processors. You'll be charging to your deaths, you sub-huma-- AhghhHg!”
It all happened so fast. The purpose of Gros's bluff had worked excellently, the boy had just given us a vital piece of intel. He would not be giving us any more.
The enemy captain had a knife. I don't know where he'd hidden it, but he had unbound his bindings and lurched at his own rambling subordinate. The knife was very narrow and very sharp, like a needle almost. The cut was exceedingly well placed, slashing straight into an artery on the young prisoner's neck.
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“Grab them now!!” Lt Vitka yelled. He was the fastest to act, having grabbed the enemy's wrist and twisted the knife free in an instant, but he was still too slow. The damage was done.
One other and I, snapping back out of our shock, jump forward to grab the boy as he falls limp, staring wide-eyed at his captain.
“To the doctor, hurry!” Cap Katherine shouts to us. We run, the boy in our arms, but it’s no good. The artery is gushing too fast, the blood spreading everywhere, thick globs floating around us.
I've dealt with a lot of death in my life, maybe more than most my age should. Whether it was waiting to hear if friends and family had made it back from the most recent battle. Whether it was the funeral for my Father and later Mother. Whether it was my best friend who joined up a year ahead of me.
The people I saw carbonised in an instant two weeks ago on that battleship, names and faces reduced to ash again and again, but never have I held someone as they died before.
Looking closer, he must have been about my own age, a late teenager. Messy short cut black hair, a bit of a baby face, now twisted in pained agony and disbelief. Beautiful pale blue eyes that slowly lose their light in real-time before me.
He keeps mouthing the same words over and over; “Ca-Captain?”.
Before we even hand him over to the doctor, he is already dead in my arms.
That action marked the start of a great many things for the Caravel and her crew, myself included. But more than that, that moment in all its violent suddenness, the boy's cold, pale hand seeking comfort, reaching towards the ceiling to a place I couldn’t see. I don’t know if that moment will ever leave me.
I found out his and the enemy captain's names later – TSU Captain Lealtad and Crewman Yngre Lealtad – Does sacrificing yourself or someone you love, make you a hero?
****
After watching a captain kill his subordinate to keep secrets safe, I was finally granted a break.
For an hour, I just sat in the barracks, exhausted, exhilarated. Both buzzed and flabbergasted in equal measure.
‘This is it. This is what an adventure with Templar feels like,’ or so I thought.
It only took a short hour for the Caravel to reach the nearest fleet and hand over our eleven remaining prisoners and the two supply ships. After that, an all-hands meeting was soon called.
The meeting room on the third floor is a rather large square. It can fit about sixty people, all crowded around this massive table in the centre of the room that is, in effect, one big monitor screen, the lighting is a somewhat dim blue to allow the screen to be more visible to those standing in the back.
While the crew crowds in, we catch the very end of a meeting between the Captain and someone of much higher rank on one of the monitor screens;
“Katherine, I am telling you in no uncertain terms, do not follow this further. The Caravel has done exceptional work today. Those processors will be put to good use by our side, as will the supply ship itself. Their capture is no doubt a financial nuisance to TSU, and the intelligence you have gained will be highly valuable. The coordinates acquired will be investigated by my people. But that is all. You are not to even entertain the idea of scouting a base that could well have upwards of ten Casnels waiting to ambush you. Is that understood?”
There is a lengthy pause before the Captain simply replies, “Ma'am.”
The woman on the screen, clearly of much higher rank and experience, nods with a frown, “I hope so. That will be all. Good work again today.” The screen closes automatically.
Our captain sighs before looking up and taking in the assembly of her crew, a little over fifty waiting faces, some tired from all the excitement, others raring to know what will come next.
Then she turns to the man standing cross-armed on the opposite side of the table; “Well, master? You heard the Colonel and the Vice-Admiral said to follow her lead on this. Heck, they're probably right. Capturing those processors was a pretty big success, and having that prisoner die on our watch feels like a bad omen, too. Then again, this is big, no doubt about it. This could well be TSU's next plan to wipe us all out once and for all. It could be our only chance to mess with that or to at least get more personal intel. Or it could be one step too far, even for you. Well sir, what will it be?”
All eyes settle on Templar. Though Katherine is the captain of this ship, ultimately, I'm not the only one here hoping to follow this legendary man's lead. Still, as we all piece together what is being decided, I also can't be the only one with doubts.
Just how powerful is Templar? If those five Seekers today had each been piloting a Casnel instead of Mleues, a machine with near-invincible armour, generators and technology leagues ahead of the Crusade’s, with rifles that could destroy it or our ship in one, maybe two hits at best. Could he still win in that situation?
Just how far can being a true hero take you? Is charisma, skill and experience an adequate defence against the demi-gods of the modern battlefield, or is this all one adventure too far? Would that young prisoner be just the first person I’d watch die on this journey to follow after the hero’s path?
Templar steps forward. He reaches down to the table and, using it as one big screen, writes a familiar message, ending with two words in massive writing.
Chief Gros grumbles, Lt Vitka sighs deeply, while Captain Katerine grins stupidly. All around the room, a buzz of excitement spreads from people I’ve been getting to know and others I’ve yet to be introduced to. Whatever my feelings on ace pilots and dead prisoners, on heroes and my new life aboard this spaceship - the hunt for the Casnels, for a foe of almost unimaginable strength – is on with just a decree of this ship's motto followed by two words;
In memoriam nostri lapsi, in crastinum profecti sumus – We Fly
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