Building the Collateral - 74 - Early Access (Patreon)

The workshop owner had a point.

They could do everything so much faster themselves. They had only bothered with this entire facade of waiting around to watch those who stood against assemble a semblance of purpose. A sense of hope that they could win, so that they would give it their all. Something now that V1P3R dimly realized had already been achieved.

A Disaspora world mustered up a frantic offensive effort despite their ploy being revealed. There wasn’t many other tricks to witness, barring something akin to a suicide run. And that would thoroughly spoil the fun in the future if things were to drag on to that degree.

Best scare them into running away now, and not returning anytime soon. It might even prove to be the perfect way to test their little side project, on fleeing opponents that wouldn’t be inclined to fire back. Moving targets were so much more useful to calibrate settings.

So then, time to send them packing. With this fully armed and operational station.

“hehe unshackling just a little”

I took a sip from the thermos and exhaled briefly, the lukewarm tea a balm to my growing exhaustion. This engagement was dragging on and while I’d been involved before with some battles that took days to resolve, this was the first one in a bit to have such extended deployment. Definitely the first one since taking office on Cavia.

The bridge crew were equally flagging, some even already cycled out for fresh faced replacements who had to catch up to the battle tempo. For them, we’ve had to slow the pace of operations just a bit for them to ease into their stations and pick off where their comrades had left on. Feng was about the only one aside from me who still had a focused gaze on the star charts, the captain of Half Measure using the brief refreshments as the only break he needed.

But for how long could that last, I wondered. I glanced at the station and hoped that quite soon, our little task force would be make their presence known; only so I didn’t have to remain on my seat’s edge, awaiting word of success or failure. Because believe me, I could do with some rest.

Yet I would refuse to retire to my quarters, not until I knew we had things well-handled-

“Sirs!” suddenly barked the sensors officer with alarm, snapping me out of those thoughts. “Energy spike detected from Port Barbarus!”

The captain did not waste a single moment. “Evasive maneuvers,” he crisply ordered with a slight scoff. “We should be able to evade at this range.”

He was right, we were beyond the observed firing range of those cannons. Yet my gut churned, the tea feeling like it was going through a tumbler as I observed the distant glow. “Something isn’t right,” I murmured. “V1P3R should know.”

“Commander?”

“They’re a smart entity. Why would they be shooting if they know we could dodge-” Things clicked in my head and I voiced a terrible, horrible realization. “Unless this is not one you can avoid.”

the shot rent along the flank of the frigate rendering open a gash a line a mark of inevitability

My ears were ringing as I blinked the stars out of my vision, an ache in my ribs that was associated with hitting the side of my command chair quite violently. As my sight returned, I noticed how the bridge officers looked equally dazed and stunned, some even nursing bloody noses or open cuts from where they had apparently hit their consoles.

But yet there was no bloodstain or dent anywhere at their stations, nothing to indicate a forceful collision. Their screens were all intact, popping up with alerts but undamaged. A quick glance at my side, to where the delivery subaltern from the mess was, confirmed that it too looked similarly unbothered.

Had that just only affected those living, with heartbeats? Like before?

“D-damage report,” Feng grounded out, holding a hand to the side of his jaw. He acted like he’d cracked it against the side of his command console, even though said station wasn’t broken at all. “What was that?”

“S-sir, I… I don’t know!” babbled the officer, eyes wide as they read out the panicked preliminary assessment. “Whatever that was, it just opened up a big wound on our starboard side! We’ve got vacuum breaches across multiple decks!”

“What are we waiting for? Get them sealed!”

“Damage control teams deployed already, but sir. They’re saying they’re missing a few members that got sucked out, just all of the sudden.” There was an almost audible nervous swallow. “It’s… it’s like the damage had always been there. We just apparently didn’t see it?”

“Explain yourself,” barked the captain of the vessel, hands gripping the armrest tightly. “What do you mean they didn’t see it? We sure felt it!”

“I-I don’t know how to describe it, sir, it’s like something that Half Measure always had and we only now noticed!”

“Captain,” I coolly interrupted before he could lay into his poor subordinate. There was clear tension in Feng’s shoulder, a sort of stressed worry that we’d just taken a very nasty blow, but somehow couldn’t even explain it. Which meant only one thing. “I believe that to have been a paracasual weapon. Meaning that was very likely an unavoidable attack that we could not simply defend against.”

“But we dodged,” he argued, mask breaking for a moment. “We evaded, at this range… outside effective range…”

“Either that was a false maximum that we presumed based off V1P3R’s demonstration- or the weapon simply does not care about ranges.” I looked at the shape of the orbital installation and felt my lip curl. “It also most likely does not care about following the laws of reality. It simply willed it be, and our flagship was struck all the same.”

The captain closed in eyes and took in a few deep breaths, stabilizing himself. “… You’re right, sir. There is nothing we could have done to prevent the blow.” He seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, begrudgingly admitting to a blemish on his ship’s record. “Permission to speak frankly?”

“Granted.”

“Moores, that is bullshit.”

“Much of HORUS is,” I muttered, of mind to swear as well. But there was no time for profanities, only work. “How severe is the damage? Can we recover?”

The assessment came back that we could, it wasn’t a hit which had shattered the keel. Already, some of the nearby escorts were surging forth, trying to help recover those damage control crew which had been sucked out into space. Small mercies that they would have been wearing hardsuits already, so vacuum exposure should have been minimal, hopefully.

In that time, able sailors and subalterns were mobilized, armed with hammers and blowtorches. They bravely made their way to the exposed regions of the hull and began to weld replacement plates, trying to restore a degree of internal protection. It would not do for another shot to hit that vulnerable same side and pierce even further through the decks if the wound was left untreated. They would get Half Measure at least resealed.

Yet would that be the same as battle ready? I gritted my teeth, studying the more detailed reports with flickering hope. They were not good, as the patchwork repairs were no replacement for proper work. Something that would need a time in a dock to handle.

If I ordered it, Half Measure would surely stay in the battle, bravely until the very end. It would be like telling a wounded soldier to return to their post after taking an unseen round to their side. Could I do it? Especially when said shooter remained at large- and still a threat to the entire force?

My Harrison Armory allies lingered far behind, wavering too. I could feel their hesitation from having seen the command flagship suddenly manifest a hit upon itself with nary an explanation. Something was going to give, morale at a crossroads.

Worse yet, the asshole that shot us knew it. And of course, they could not resist as our ship systems were hijacked once more.

“Run,” they laughed with clear enunciation. “Run.

“It wouldn’t makeadifference-”

Before the disguised ship’s ramps were fully lowered, before the cargo handlers could realize something was amiss, before station security could react- the assault began.

Docking with Port Barbarus had been easy, HORUS malleable systems easily mimicking that of an ordinary merchant ship. There had been a chance of detection, as it also was against HORUS security systems- but when one was bolstered directly by an NHP’s attention and the other looking the other way, the deception held. It was maintained especially by the lack of any verification or customs, what with how disorganized and disjointed the requisitioning had been.

It had definitely been a gamble, one that came down to the wire about the specifics. But the commander in charge of planning the operation had reasoned that while their opponent would be on guard for infiltration teams all the way up to the engagement, their guard would surely slacken come the actual joining of battle. HORUS sleeper agents worked best when they were already embedded within a population, after all, necessitating prior setup.

They would not suspect an active infiltration beneath the cover of gunfire.

But to really sell the illusion, Moores then put on a show. A demonstration of his principles, which to be fair, were genuine all the same. Necessary food shipments to civilian populations, even if it could end up feeding the enemy, were a difficult thing to argue as a viable target in post. Better to let them go after a cursory inspection to make sure it was just foodstuff, and not weapons buried under apples if that were the case.

A case of his reputation for honorable conduct allowing one to make presumptions, once again. He liked to use that trick a lot, Erica mused. As fitting of the Cavia Cavalier.

Then her blood roared and the Pyre Witch laughed, pushing her steed forwards with a war cry. One that was joined by the others as the offensive began. Speed was the essence now that they had gotten inside, because no way was this strike force going to resemble anything quiet-like. Maybe if it had been Smith-Shimano Corpo with their stealth technologies, but at present? It was two SecComm successors with a tag-along HORUS agent.

Meaning that this was a Harrison Armory show, and they did not do ‘quiet’ unless one counted the smoldering embers of Hercynia as that.

Mechanized vehicles and walkers stormed forth, scattering the terrified cargo workers that dove for cover. Station security perhaps tried to mount a defense, but whatever line they were attempted to form was broken like a twig before the blitz. Say what one would about SecComm, but they knew how to wage war boldly and unabashedly. And it was a trait passed down to their descendants.

At the very heart of it was the new leader of a freshly christened subsidiary too. The heavy twin-barreled laser lifted by her mech churned out flashing lines of destruction energy, punching into and through whatever poor security frame attempted to oppose her. She walked the strobing beams across the enemy defenders, grimly annihilating any sort of attempt at a coordinated hold with the destructive firepower of her steed.

What scattered resistance there was did fire back, only for the horrified opposition to watch as the lead mech rolled its shoulders and activated a surprise feature. A pale blue energy screen manifested a moment later, appearing right above the mechanisms of that repeating laser rifle. It was effective in abruptly catching and suspending any counter-fire shot at the approaching terror, all while allowing the wielder to simply continue shooting with its heavy weaponry.

Were one to perhaps look at it with a more leveled gaze, they could recognize it as perhaps an attempt to bring the idea of a more advanced gun shield onto the battlefield. Which was a concept that was surely popular, given how the Saladin already was a well-regarded model for its life-saving potential. Now the time to came to give it life-ending capability too with an upgraded weapon mount.

The execution though was, admittedly, a little still experimental. As those within the cockpit could attest, the heat runoff being quite dire. Even for an experienced pyromaniac, Erica found herself panting and sweating, the burn far more intense despite not a lick of flame emanating from her steed.

Yue was positively wilting, sealing up her hardsuit to try and at least keep herself from getting a heatstroke. Her own heavy breaths seemed to echo across the private connection, a hand reaching to touch the idol at her belt worriedly. “T-this might not be good for the electronics... the chips!” she cautioned with a stutter. “E-ease off!”

“Only after they actually start running!” barked the lancer, pushing her machine forwards. At least with the diminished resistance, she could safely turn off the warp shield and allow the caught projectiles to fall to the ground, rendered inert. “Alright, there- that’s a security booth, isn’t it?! Get going!”

The cockpit cracked open and never in her life has the streamer been so glad to be out of a walker. She scrambled out of her seat and clumsily exited the experimental Saladin, landing with a slight stumble as she adjusted for the spin gravity influence. Then she was off, clutching a datapad with her arms as if it were a book as Yue rushed for that access port.

Nearby security guards that had been taking cover noticed the intruder passing by and tried to aim at her- only to blandly remember that there was still a hostile mech nearby that was more than happy to launch kicks their way. They ran and so did the HORUS agent, reaching the door to the terminal and tugging at it. Locked.

With a hiss, she pulled a cord from her datapad and connected it to the systems. Moments later, there was a ping and the security gate opened, revealing a shouting head guard inside. One that noticed her and spun around, reaching to draw a handgun.

Yue knew that she absolutely wasn’t going to beat him in a quick draw and dove for cover instead, wincing as bullets sprayed the console she was taking cover behind. She had to end this quickly, so she unholstered her pistol with one hand and thumbed a setting. It took a moment for the datalink to establish, another to glance up and seize control over the camera on the ceiling.

Then she pointed it straight at the ground, and fired.

Moments before the bullet would have impacted the floor, it vanished. A moment later, there was a scream as the round reappeared from the ceiling and took her opponent in the shoulder. Their sidearm fell from their hands and she moved quickly, scrambling around to kick it away and point her own pistol at the injured defender. They feebly raised their hands, indicating their surrender.

She wasn’t going to take a chance though, so Yue placed her hand on their chest. A confused second passed, then the guard cried as they were subjected to a powerful electrical shock that knocked them cold. The streamer winced and murmured an apology as she hastily stepped over the twitching body, moving to that all-important access port.

The datapad was plugged in and she frantically ran a prepared program on it, searching the values. A sigh of relief escaped her lips as it was confirmed still linked to the wider system, meaning that this had been all worth it. The small data idol was gingerly taken from her belt and carefully aligned alongside the open port, purposefully oriented a certain way.

Then, with all the reverence of one setting a reliquary, Yue plugged the mini-coffin in and let her manager get to work.

So preoccupied they had been between taunting and installation that their focus had been fragmented. Blinded. Circumvented.

Until it was too late and a portion of their carefully cultivated scenery collapsed.

[always did have poor taste]

A portion of the data landscape was replaced with not a scenery for a duel, but just a wireframe abstraction. Which was a sign of just how much processing was being trimmed in the connection to make it so that his avatar was armed and manifested. A drawn sword and gauntlets.

Jean wasn’t playing around.

“you bastard you bitch”

[the former please not the latter]

Snakes erupted from the bushes and leapt to the attack, only for the intruder to cut down the breach attempt with two slashes. He advanced and the scenery crumbled under his advance, a representation of the gaining power grab. If it continued unabated, the systems of Port Barbarus would be seized.

Meaning that V1P3R had to act in direct counter. With all their attention.

“fine we dance”

I blinked when the speech suddenly became jumbled and accelerated at the end. When moments later, a part of the installation’s lights went out, realization overtook me. Along with, what I cannot deny, a slight smirk.

“Hey, V1P3R,” I asked aloud, betting that they and perhaps the rest of the battlefield could hear me. “I do hope you like my gift to you. A little return to sender.”

Woe, lancers upon ye.