Writing Prompt: "The rains drenched her"

Outside the Hive, it was hell. The air was filled with Crud, dust and ash stirred up by the winds that howled incessantly. The particulate matter was irradiated, filled with all manner of toxins, and deadly to humans.

An unassisted human without filters would choke to death in minutes; someone with a standard filter could measure their lives with one sweep of an hour hand, though with the rads and toxins that constantly drifted down from the atmosphere, they’d be riddled with cancerous tumors, incurable infections and deadly poisons, a gift left over from what the scholars in the Cathedral of the Moon called “The Great Burn”.

Holy Knight Jeanne strode through the howling grit in her Smirtka battlesuit, a biomechanical suit that protected her from the toxic wasteland, the choking clouds of Crud, and more importantly, from the treaded vehicles that were hunting her.

“Please tell me you’ve recovered, Evelína.” She prayed as she leaned into the wind, mindful of her pursuers.

Her battlesuit was silent, though the systems Jeanne could access were still functional to some extent.

“No comms, sensors are...” she muttered, awkwardly toggling through them as she moved, hopefully in the direction of Hive Al-Omeg.

“This is really inconvenient!” Jeanne shouted, trying to vent her frustration as she plodded onward. Normally she had Evelína, an artificial personality that inhabited the warsuit, to manage all the systems for her.

“Jetpacks are still offline.” She growled, frustrated. “Weapons systems...” She shook her head as the displays shuddered and jittered.

The Cult of the Worm was hunting her. They’d tried to hit her with a blast of plasma- how did they get their hands on plasma?- but she’d avoided a fatal hit. Even if she’d avoided a direct hit, she’d been caught in the electromagnetic field and as a result Evelína had gone silent and most of her systems had gone haywire.

Plasma ordinance had three main stages: A targeting laser ionized the path of the plasma packet, the plasma was encapsulated in an electromagnetic field so that it wouldn’t diffuse once it left the gun, and then the plasma more or less traveled the intended path the laser had designated to the target.

Jeanne kept her eyes on the sensors, hoping to pick up anything but the swirl of static that made up the storm, but everything was blank and gray.

She called up a local map and tried to pin down her location, but there was nothing to orient her since she couldn’t pick up the beacon from Al-Omeg.

She grimaced. There were too many systems that she needed to keep track of while at the same time trying to avoid being detected from the Cult, trying to find the Cult, and trying to find Al-Omeg.

Evelína could manage all the systems without problem, providing all the necessary and relevant information Jeanne needed at a thought.

“Seed functionality.” She skimmed through the readouts- both of the Seeds appeared none the worse for wear- but she couldn’t see anything that might’ve damaged Evelína.

She switched back to a normal view through Evelína’s eyes and spotted a cluster of ruins. She could spend some time in there while she tried to find a way to recover. The problem was that she couldn’t control Evelína’s ability to change her configurations, and so even things like sitting or standing would be impossible.

“Frustrating.” She complained, and once again flipped through the sensor package readouts, most of which were down.

“By the Princess.” She complained as she leaned against an ancient concrete wall and went hunting through the various life-support systems to find a way to trigger the dispenser for a nutrient drink.

*****

“We can’t find the Terminatrix.” Dennis grumbled, wrenching the wheel of the transport and killing the engine.

The generator that supplied power to the plasma lance whined a little as it churned. He had no idea whether or not it was supposed to do that, so he was filled with worry that it would fracture and evaporate them. He turned to his compatriot.

“Any idea where she might be?” He asked.

“She’s dead.” Drift replied, waving a hand that was stained with machine oil dismissively. “Plasma got her.”

Dennis shook his head. “If you really believe that, why don’tcha go out there?” He asked.

“Fuck that.” Drift replied.

“See? Dennis replied, feeling vindicated.

“Rumor is that they can’t die.” a greasy and somewhat pudgy woman called from the improvised gunner’s seat. Both of the men had stopped fucking her, neither of them could stand her smell long enough to enjoy what pleasures they could get. Whether it was from her own disinterest in hygiene or the fact that they were wedged in tight in the improvised war wagon and thus didn’t have room for such niceties couldn’t be said.

“Everything dies.” Drift replied.

“Not them.” the woman avowed. “You can try and kill ‘em, but they’ll just keep coming. Blow off an arm and they’ll regrow it.”

“Blow your arm off.” Dennis griped under his breath and peered through the windshield at the churning clouds of dust and ash that swirled past, just a few inches from his face.

“Just say she’s gone so we can head back to the crack.” the woman complained. “I’m stewing in my own sweat.”

“She ain’t dead unless you show me a body.” A voice crackled across the comm system.

“Kinda hard to show you a body with a friggen plasma cannon.” Dennis shot back.

“There you go, then: Find her and kill her. I don’t care how long it takes you.” The comm clicked off.

“Bastards.” Dennis swore. “Like to take his head and shove it in the Sludge.”

“Careful.” Darah called from her gunner’s roost. “You say that shit and maybe it’ll be you in the Sludge.” She warned. “Else they strip you naked and toss you out in the Crud.”

The Sludge was a mess of industrial chemicals, radioactive wastes, toxic acids, and pollutants so vile it was possible to die just from breathing in the fumes- the unrecoverable waste product of a Hive City. It pooled and puddled around the base of each Hive City like a befouled moat, shrouding the city in its stink.

“So where is she?” Dennis asked helplessly. “If she ain’t dead, where is she?”

“She prolly flew off to get reinforcements.” Darah called back.

“I dint see her fly off.” Dennis replied.

“Prolly ran off, then.” Darah replied.

“To where?”

“...the City?” Drift offered with a shrug. His entire purpose in the vehicle was to keep the engines running in their war wagon, and if it didn’t have to do with the engine, the transmission, or any of the other things he spent his time fixing, he didn’t care.

“...automap working?” Dennis asked hopefully.

“Nawp. Cooked a circuit when we fired the cannon.” Dennis replied. “We got the Al-Omeg beacon and some maps that’ll have to do.”

Dennis fired the engine after Drift brought a tablet with a map forward, and began moving the truck forward on its tracks.

*****

It was hard to fall asleep standing upright, Jeanne judged, but it wasn’t impossible. She’d been able to catch an hour’s nap before her suit started beeping.

She prodded the list of programs and suddenly the radio system flared to life, Al-Omeg’s tower broadcasting hymns to the Lunar Princess.

“Now if I could only use it as a beacon.” She muttered as she inspected the various systems. Her weapons suite was still offline. The active sensor package was offline. The jetpack looked to be perfectly functional, but was also offline.

She would have slumped with resignation if the Smirtka had allowed it; she basically could only listen to the radio, monitor the passive sensor package, and run.

She toggled back to the status of the Seeds. The first Seed was the original, the one that housed Evelína’s personality, along with all the programs that managed everything in the battlesuit and kept Jeanne alive. The second Seed was one she’d plucked herself, back when Evelína was dying. With the addition of the second Seed, Evelína was able to return to service, albeit with problems that they’d had to overcome together.

She tapped the part of the screen that displayed the original Seed and looked for errors or problems.

“Not that I know what they look like.” She muttered under her breath.

“Jeanne?” Evelína’s voice filled her ear.

“By the-” Jeanne managed to get out before Evelína burst into a near-incoherent babble of relief and gratitude.

“So what happened?” Jeanne asked her partner after the Smirtka calmed itself down.

“You disappeared.” Evelína replied, “which was very strange. I knew you hadn’t disembarked, but none of my sensory packages would report that you were within.”

“Strange. I pulled up everything I could, but I couldn’t figure out a way to use anything. Just managed to get the passive sensors and the radio working.” Jeanne mused.

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“Now that you mention it, those systems seem to be misbehaving. Would you explain what you did?” Evelína asked. “Perhaps I can figure out what has happened.”

Jeanne explained everything she could to Evelína, while the AI cogitated.

“I think it has to do with the second Seed.” Evelína finally decided.

“Hmmm?” Jeanne asked.

“It has no Personality Helix installed, and it currently has no direct access to my systems- except for what you did, activating the passive sensors and radio.”

The passive sensors came online and Jeanne flinched as two of the makeshift tanks she’d been battling appeared on her HUD just a few meters away.

“By the-” Jeanne started to swear again, reaching for the weapons systems by reflex. This time they came online, ammo counters appearing in the lower right of her vision.

“Wait, Jeanne.” Evelína warned. “We’re pinned down.” A three-dimensional map appeared and showed that two more tanks were approaching from the rear. The moment Jeanne engaged one, all of them would attack, and she was sandwiched between two of them that had direct line-of-sight with her.

“If we wait for the other two to pass, we can attack from behind, increasing our survivability.” Evelína advised.

“Your reasoning?” Jeanne asked.

“Their cannons can’t traverse. The whole vehicle has to turn around. Attacking from behind is the wise choice, especially considering they have Type Four plasma generators.”

“I am getting real tired of the Worm Cult getting their hands on high-grade ordinance!” Jeanne swore. “Can we jump behind them?” she asked, envisioning using the jetpack to launch herself up to arc over the rear tanks, and then beginning her assault.

“If you do that, they’ll target you with the plasma. You might be able to dodge the first salvo, but by the time you landed, they would have turned to face you.” Evelína replied back, playing out the scenario on the map.

“Ugh.” She complained. “Wait- why haven’t they attacked?”

Evelína’s voice immediately dripped with smug self-satisfaction. “I turned on the active camouflage.”

Jeanne sighed with relief. “All we need is something to pass the time while we wait.”

“Would you like to listen to their radio traffic?” Evelína offered.

“Absolutely.” Jeanne replied. “Record it, too.”

Her ears were filled with chattering gutterspeak as the four tanks yammered, gossiped, and joked and stepped over each others transmissions. Occasionally they’d ask each other if they’d seen the ‘Terminatrix’, the commoner name for the Holy Knights.

“I wanna get back to the crack. Being out in the Crud is just killing me.” Someone piped up and there was a chorus of agreements from each tank.

“You can come back when the Terminatrix is dead.” A cool, crisp, and educated voice piped up. “You don’t come back until then.”

“What if we run out of water?” A woman’s voice asked cautiously.

“Drink your piss for all I care.” The voice replied. “We need to keep that Moon-witch away from our workings, so you stay out there until you bring me back her head.”

The radio band went silent, then.

“So what’s this ‘crack’ they were talking about?” Jeanne asked.

Evelína pulled up the map, zoomed out, and then zoomed back in further north. “My best guess.” She replied. “We were near there when we were attacked. There’s a seismic crevice in the ground here.”

“Chart a course. As soon as these assholes pass us by, that’s where we’re headed.” Jeanne decided.

“Are you certain you want to leave these war machines alone?” Evelína asked, unsure.

“They’re scum.” Jeanne replied simply. “Scum with plasma ordinance, but scum, nonetheless. The real target is up there. I think we’ll catch something of real value up there.”

“I’m going on record that I oppose this plan.” Evelína replied.

Jeanne frowned, but nodded. “Okay.”

The tanks crept by, moving slowly. Jeanne could see the drivers peering out of the windshields of their heavily modified war wagons as they passed.

“Let’s go.” Jeanne commanded, and Evelína launched them into the air.

“The Crack” did refer to a massive crack in the earth, a crack that was staked out with electric torches that flickered in the howling winds.

“Well, let’s go in.” Jeanne offered. “Solid munitions only, small caliber against soft targets. Ideally we want to capture as many as we can.”

“As my Lady Knight commands.” Evelína replied, clearly disappointed.

“You wanted to use plasma ordinance, didn’t you?” Jeanne asked as they descended into the crevice.

“Yes, yes I did.” Evelína replied sulkily.

“Who knows, maybe you’ll get your chance.”

The crack’s bottom was flattened out enough so that vehicles could be driven in or out, and according to the amount of tracks, a lot of them had passed through.

Jeanne’s suit suddenly stopped.

“I’m detecting infrared emitters. Likely simple tripwires or detection systems.” Evelína reported.

“Show me.” Jean commanded, and her vision was filled with an overlay. Evelína drew in red lines for the emitters.

“Huh.” Jean muttered as she carefully stepped over or crawled under the beams as time and necessity dictated.

“Keep monitoring the radio, and let me know if something interesting pops up.” Jeanne commanded, which was met by Evelína’s delighted laughter.

“There’s always something interesting happening on the radio.” Evelína replied.

The crevice’s gray walls were a stark difference from the brown and ashy surface. Striated bands of stone spoke a geological story in ribbons of gray, black and white. The further down they went, the more it was evident that the crevice had been widened out by human hands.

As they continued, more lights appeared, and they entered a cavern where several more improvised tanks sat. One of them was being worked on by a filthy man wearing tattered rags and a filthy face mask.

“He’s suicidal.” Jeanne observed with clinical detachment.

“No, rads are clear. Air’s almost completely breathable, too.” Evelína replied.

“Then he’s just insane. Evelína, silent takedown.” Jeanne ordered.

A number of wrist-thick tentacles snaked towards the man, who was still comfortably oblivious to them. One wrapped itself around his head, another around his torso. With a wrench and a crack, the man went limp.

“How are you going to hide the body, Jeanne?” Evelína asked curiously.

“Stuff him under one of the tanks. Check to see if there’s plasma generators.”

Evelína scanned the tanks even as her tendrils pushed the body of the man under the body of one of them.

“They’re all armed.” Evelína reported to Jeanne.

“Where are they getting them?”

“We could try to have a look. After all, there’s not a lot of flexibility in a firefight, “oh excuse me sir, might I have a look at the serial number on your generator?”.

It was weird to hear Evelína imitating Jeanne’s voice so closely. Uncomfortable.

“Fine. Have a look, but be quick about it. I want to go deeper.”

Evelína’s tentacles oozed over the improvised cannon and after a moment an access panel was torn away. A long serial number appeared on Jeanne’s display. “Catalog it and save it for later. Put a remote detonator on all of them. Win or lose, pass or fail, these generators get vaporized.”

They headed downwards, deeper into an underground complex.

“Things might be grim if I can’t fit in these tunnels, Jeanne.” Evelína warned.

They moved slowly and carefully, Evelína’s active camouflage masking them from cameras.

“Mapping complete. This facility is extensive. It penetrates Al-Omeg.” Evelína reported.

Jeanne immediately frowned. “The time for subtlety has passed. Remote trigger the explosives on the plasma generators back the way we came.” She commanded, and there was an immediate tremble in the floor, followed by the blaring of alarms.

“Comms are hot.” Evelína reported. “Lots of radio traffic.”

“...and?” Jeanne prompted.

“It’s to be expected- orders to find out what happened. Targets inbound.” Evelína reported, and then provided a map with moving dots rushing towards them.

“Remember what I said about ammunition.” Jeanne reminded her partner, who sulkily agreed moments before a double dozen men and women equipped with both tools and weapons charged towards them.

“Open fire.” Jeanne commanded as she shifted Evelína’s form to assault form, a two-meter tall armored human with a grinning metal death’s head emblem.

Shoulder mounted weapons picked out targets with sharp cracks as she swept into them, metallic arms slashing with thirty-six inch metal blades punching through armor, cutting flesh, shredding vital organs.

“Priority target!” Evelína warned Jeanne as Evelína grappled one of the women and lifted her into the air, pressing the screaming woman against the granite ceiling.

“Lucky!” Jeanne called out. “I was about to gut her!”

“That’s why I’m here.” Evelína replied smugly. “Beginning pacification.”

Jeanne kicked on the leg thrusters so that she could accelerate down the hall while Evelína divested the woman of weapons and clothes.

“There should be at least three more capture targets.” Evelína advised. “Two of them received orders from a third. From the radio traffic I’ve been monitoring, it’s an older woman.”

“They know we’re here?” Jeanne asked.

“Not yet. They’re worried about the explosion.” Evelína replied, and then paused.

“You’re going to need to prepare for combat, Holy Knight Jeanne.” She finally added in a much more subdued voice.

“Hard target?” Jeanne asked.

“The worst.” Evelína agreed. “I highly recommend the use of plasma ordinance.”

“Give me details!” Jeanne ordered, and Evelína replied soundlessly by hacking into the compound’s camera and security system.

An older woman that was very familiar to Jeanne was climbing into a Smirtka Battlesuit.

“I cannot willfully engage in non-training combat with another Holy Knight, Jeanne.” Evelína warned.

“Override.” Jeanne commanded.

“I’m sorry Jeanne, I can’t do that.” Evelína immediately returned in a much more mechanical voice.

“Disable safety protocols.” Jeanne tried.

“I’m sorry Jeanne, I can’t do that.” Evelína repeated again.

Jeanne canceled her thrusters and slid to a stop, the bladed feet digging grooves into the stone flooring.

“I am authorizing the release of plasma ordinance.” Jeanne commanded.

“Authorization recognized; plasma ordinance available at your discretion.” Evelína replied in a much more normal tone of voice.

“Transmit data packet to Holy Knight Irene. Use a scrambled channel. I’ll leave it to you to pick one. Hopefully...” Jeanne muttered, frustrated, “Hopefully she can be trusted.”

“Data transmission successful.” Evelína replied almost immediately.

“Was it snooped by- by- ... our target?” Jeanne asked.

“Not sure.” Evelína replied doubtfully. “Primary target has moved into the agri-farm area of Al-Omeg.”

“Shit. She’s getting away.” Jeanne hissed.

“I’d like to remind you that under my current configuration I cannot engage another sister of the Church of the Lunar Princess.” Evelína replied.

“I know.” Jeanne complained.

“I will remind you that there is another Seed equipped in this Battlesuit-” Evelína began, but Jeanne cut her off.

“I’m following you. How do I engage the Seed without having to do everything manually? Far chance she’ll be under the same lockouts.” Jeanne explained.

“I am currently deploying a rudimentary Construct Helix that should provide some automation. However, I will not be able to provide you with any tactical or battle assistance once you switch to that Seed.”

“Why not copy yourself?” Jeanne asked.

“The lockouts are part of my core programming.” Evelína replied. “I’ll keep a protocol pipe open so that I can observe, but I will not be able to assist you- even to provide life support- once you engage. All combat activities will need to cease before I can assist you.”

Jeanne let out a sigh. “Let’s go.”

The rains drenched Holy Knight Jeanne of Al-Omeg as she burst into the Agri-Farm district, target reticles flashing red on her display as she prepared to face Abbess Cheryl.