Chapter One Hundred and Eighty: Don't Look Up (Patreon)

The roar of helicopters distracted me for a second.

Kestrel attack choppers flew through the air, their sides bristling with deadly cannons and heavy missile armament. The lead chopper had a stylized mongoose painted on the side.

“Air assault element ready,” Pemberley’s voice announced over the radio. “Please feel free to call us for all your close air support needs. Mongoose, out.”

“Heavy assault element ready,” came Donald Green’s cheerful voice. “The Wild Boars are ready to rip and gore. Big Bad Boar out.”

“Shock troops ready,” came another, less familiar voice. “When you need to swarm the aliens for a change, the Nightstalker Brigade is here.”

“Welcome to Tanisport, folks,” another voice spoke up, this time with an American accent. “Brigadier Henry Powell here. Thanks for showing up this fast. We have anyone from the ultras?”

“Uh, Belessar here,” I added. “We have a few tricks up our sleeves.”

“I can see your sleeve from here, Belessar. Congratulations on the new giant robot. Any chance you have a ranged option on that thing?”

“Missiles and a railgun, actually.”

“Good to know. For those of you who are on this channel - which should be everyone, ultras and soldiers alike - we’re doing a five-minute brief. The aliens have punched through with one of their battleships and it’s headed for Tanisport directly. ETA eight minutes. We’ve never faced off against one of their main ships before, so expect the unexpected. Reinforcements are inbound on priority, and in two hours we should have enough firepower to push back, but we’ll have to blunt the first wave ourselves. Prioritize protecting the civilians, and don’t hesitate to fall back if you are outnumbered. We can trade space for time. Please contact your nearest U.S. Army representative in case you have any questions.”

Sergeant Banner and a squad from Alpha Company showed up just as I was trying to figure out where to put Mirantibus.

“You’re volunteered,” I told the Sergeant. “This is Mirantibus. He’s a mind editor - can rip out memories from targets, leave them confused. Permanently. I need you to look after him.”

Banner nodded. “You up for this, kid? There’s no shame in a support role.”

Mirantibus nodded nervously. “I - can’t do much good from inside a tent. Need line of sight.”

“Well, if you can keep up with us, we could use the help.”

The Master gulped. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t worry,” I told Mirantibus. “You’ll get through this fine. I was a lot less prepared than you in my first battle, you know.”

“You had an armoured suit,” said Mirantibus.

“That was my second battle, not my first. The first time I fought an alien, I had a metal hubcap and some stolen clothes. The second time, Banner and his fellow soldiers kept me safe.”

Banner quirked an eyebrow. “More like the other way around.”

“Ultras look after soldiers and soldiers look after ultras. It’s synergy, Mirantibus. Do you have a plan for how to disable an alien?”

“Um, I sort of thought of ripping their memories out wholesale and reducing them to a babylike state, but I’m worried about the side effects on me.”

Nervous glances were exchanged amongst the troops.

“That might be overkill,” I suggested. “How about you just edit their memories of their training. Don’t take away their entire personalities, but yank out the part of their memory which tells them how to use rifles and armour and grenades, their physical conditioning, and their ability to use their communicators.”

“That’ll definitely put a crimp in their fighting ability,” muttered Banner.

“The key, Mirantibus, is speed. Every second you’re focused on one enemy is a second another has free to take potshots at your team. Do the minimum needed to disorient them, and then let the troops behind you finish them off.”

The teen nodded hesitantly. Banner gripped his shoulder. “Don’t worry, kid. Just do it the way Belessar said and you’ll be fine.”

An incoming radio transmission interrupted any further advice. “Belessar, Pemberley speaking. I’m sending you the frequency for the command channel.”

“The what?”

“We have three main channels for radio communication during any battle. General channel, which is for everybody, tactical, which is officers-only, and command, which is regimental commanders and above. We need someone from the ultras for the command channel; that’s you and Nanocloud.”

“Why just us?”

“It’s your city and you both multi-task well.”

“Okay. What do we have to do?”

“If you need to direct troop support to an ultra, use the command channel to ask for it. Or to discuss tactics that might not be popular.”

“Like suicidal last stands. Got it.”

“Let’s try to put a more positive spin on it. Pemberley out.”

Connecting to the command channel, I caught the middle of a conversation: “... and it’ll be at least two hours before everyone’s in the shelters. City administration is in chaos. Over.”

“Powell here. Any idea who’s in charge on the civvie side? Over.”

“The Mayor’s dead and his deputies are clueless. The Governor’s invoked martial law, but that doesn’t help as much as it should - we need people who the civvies trust talking to them, and right now there’s nobody. We’re looking at people still on the streets when the Raptors hit the ground. Over.”

“Heath here. Air elements confirmed visual on the target. Four kilometres long, half a kilometre wide. Over.”

Someone whistled. “That’s big.”

“ETA two minutes. Over.”

Two minutes?

Dammit, there was still too much to do!

<Nanocloud>: Some of your old friends just arrived.

<Belessar>: Which ones?

<Nanocloud>: The team formerly known as Supremacy. They’re on their way to meet you.

Sure enough, the five former Supremacists had made their way to the square, Supreme floating above them.

The first thing I noticed was that they’d changed their costumes. All of them, except Supreme, wore a variant of Iron Joe’s armour. Solid, dependable metal, with a single stylized symbol on the chest the only way to tell them apart. Steel gloves for all except the Wolfman, whose claws were a more potent weapon.

And they were wearing their normal cloth masks instead of helmets, which naturally reduced the effectiveness by half...

Ah well. Baby steps.

Supreme - still in his old suit, which (in fairness) was tougher than Iron Joe’s armour - floated up to me with a grin. “Belessar! We are proud to present to you our new team - Endurance. We’re here to punch the aliens back into outer space!”

Aspenthorn shook her head, seemingly embarrassed. “Good day, Belessar. Where do you need us and how?”

NEW FACTION IDENTIFIED: ENDURANCE

RELATIONSHIP: ALLIED

MEMBERS: 5

Whatever else I had to say, though, was interrupted by an ominous shadow, as the alien battleship finally arrived.

The ship floated high above us, black metal hull surrounded by the bluish-grey crackling of a shield. Great plumes of steam flowed away from it, as the heat from its rapid passage through the atmosphere was purged into the skies.

It was at least ten thousand metres up - and it cast the entire city in shadow.

Voices crackled on the radio. “... four kilometres long,” Pemberley was saying, “and at least half a kilometre wide. There’s nothing in our inventory that can scratch that thing.”

“Fighters are inbound. We can engage their shuttles as they launch.”

“Belessar, any metrics on that thing?”

“One moment,” I said, focusing on the ship.

TEST OF PERCEPTION PASSED. OBSERVE RANGE EXTENDED.

XERANAI BATTLESHIP

LEVEL 150

FACTION: MIND OF THE HIERARCHY

THE ULTIMATE EXPRESSION OF XERANAI SPACE TECHNOLOGY, THE BATTLESHIPS OF THE XERANAI ARE INDIVIDUALLY THE MOST POWERFUL COMBAT VESSELS BUILT BY ANY NON-LIRAEAN SPECIES. TOGETHER, THEY ARE UNSTOPPABLE.

ARMOR POINTS: 812,000,000,000 / 812,000,000,000

RESONANT SHIELD: 406,000,000,000 / 406,000,000,000

SHIELD RECHARGE: 0.01% PER SECOND

RESISTANCE: 90% REDUCTION TO NUCLEAR, THERMAL AND RADIOLOGICAL ATTACKS IMPACTING ARMOUR (NO REDUCTION TO SHIELD). 25% REDUCTION TO KINETIC STRIKES.

TARGETING SYSTEM: INTERLINKED NEURAL NETWORK WITH MACHINE LEARNING ALGORITHM.

PROPULSION SYSTEMS:

XERANAI FOLDSPACE DRIVE.

XERANAI ANTIGRAVITY COIL.

WEAPONS:

CAPITAL SHIP DISRUPTER CANNON: 25 BILLION DAMAGE / SHOT

XERKAN MISSILE LAUNCHER: FIRES XERKAN ANTI-CAPITAL SHIP MISSILES WITH A YIELD OF 100 BILLION EACH. LIMIT: 1 MISSILE EVERY 30 SECONDS.

GOVILA MISSILE BATTERY: FIRES GOVILA ANTI-SPACESHIP MISSILES OF SMALLER YIELD: 40 MILLION DAMAGE EACH. 500 MISSILES / SECOND.

10 x PLANETARY BOMBARDMENT RAILGUNS: LAUNCHES SPECIALIZED ORDNANCE FOR HITTING TOUGH, IMMOBILE TARGETS. LIKE PLANETARY FORTRESSES, OR CITIES. EACH RAILGUN ROUND DOES 10 BILLION DAMAGE.

150 x YOGZUNE MASER CANNONS: SHORT RANGE X-RAY MASER CANNONS FOR CLOSE COMBAT AGAINST SWARMS OF SMALLER ENEMIES. DAMAGE: +500,000 PER SHOT. RATE: 3 SHOTS/SECOND.

POINT DEFENSE LASER BATTERY: HULL-EMBEDDED ARRAY OF HUNDREDS OF SMALLER CANNONS INTENDED TO DESTROY SMALLER CRAFT AND MISSILES THAT GET TOO CLOSE TO THE BATTLESHIP.

CREW: 50,000 HIERARCHY SPACERS.

CARGO CAPACITY: CAN CARRY THE POPULATION OF A SMALL CITY WITHIN ITS BAYS. WHAT SURPRISES DOES THIS ONE HAVE?

Counting the zeroes took long enough for my brain to catch up.

“Eight hundred and twelve billion armour points,” I whispered into the radio.

“Repeat, Belessar, did you say eight-one-two million?”

“Billion. Nine zeroes.” I repeated numbly.

It might as well have been infinity.

“Shields are an additional four hundred six billion,” I continued. “Recharge rate of 0.01% means they recharge at forty million points per second when drained.”

The command channel was quiet for a few seconds. Heath spoke up first. “Any chance we can hit them with a small nuke? That could take down the shield.”

“You’d need sixteen kilotons to knock down the shield alone. Another three hundred and twenty KT to wreck the ship.”

A second later, Powell spoke up. “That’s out of the question.”

“Can the jets knock it down?” asked Pemberley.

“No chance. It has a hundred and fifty laser cannons intended for shooting small fast targets in space.”

“Well at least it’s just sitting there for now. When they drop the troops we can intercept…”

Blinding light filled our vision.

A second later, the shockwave of the blast hit us.

DEXTERITY TEST: PASSED! YOU DO NOT TRIP.

The Wolf Armour staggered back, reeling, as the very earth trembled.

“THEY HIT CITY HALL!”

I couldn’t tell who’d screamed on the command channel, but it didn’t matter.

Letters sprang across my field of view, familiar as ever:

NEW QUEST ALERT: BRING DOWN THE SKY.

THE XERANAI BATTLESHIP HAS COMMENCED BOMBARDMENT OF THE CITY OF TANISPORT. FIRING ITS RAILGUNS, IT CAN DESTROY BUILDINGS AND WIPE OUT SHELTERS DEEP BELOW THE SURFACE WITH THE POWER OF HIGH-SPEED ROCKS. AND THAT’S NOTHING COMPARED TO WHAT WILL HAPPEN IF IT USES THE CAPITAL SHIP CANNON.

THE SHIP WILL WIPE OUT ALL LIFE IN TANISPORT WITHIN THE NEXT FEW HOURS, IF YOU LET IT SIT THERE AND KEEP FIRING.

TO STOP THE BATTLESHIP, YOU MUST BRING IT DOWN TO EARTH. AFTER ALL, IT WON’T DESTROY A CITY IF IN THE MIDDLE OF IT.

OBJECTIVE: GROUND THE XERANAI BATTLESHIP.

REWARD: +5,000,000 XP.

FAILURE PENALTY: QUEST FAILURE (HOMEGROUND DEFENCE), DEATHS OF DRAKE FAMILY, DESTRUCTION OF TANISPORT AND DEATHS OF ALL ITS INHABITANTS. 75% INCREASED CHANCE OF HUMANITY SURRENDERING TO THE HIERARCHY AND BEING ENSLAVED FOREVER.