The only warning anyone had of the start of "festivities" was the sudden appearance out of the warped and distorted space above the harbor of a pair of distinctly odd looking ships. They looked like someone had joined a pair of old three-mast sailing ships at the keel, with rigging in both the horizontal and vertical planes. The hull appeared to be metal, and at the bow there was a large spear-like projection which seemed too fragile to be a ram yet clearly wasn't a bowsprit.
The two ships were maneuvering toward the south shore of the bay and away from the very obvious army encampment on the north side. They began launching small, flying boats that resembled old whaling skiffs, each holding a dozen or so individuals who weren't human.
Director Renick was in the command and control center under the PRT building, along with the night shift crew. "How many people are left in The Docks?" he queried one technician.
"The evacuation of the city to locations inland was seventy five percent complete as of four hours ago," the technician dutifully reported. "Of those who didn't evacuate, most of those are in the Endbringer shelters on the west side of the city, or the two in the city center. The remainder have decided to shelter in place. The Dockworkers left what they called a 'skeleton crew' on site."
Someone muttered, "'Skeleton crew' my–"
"We've reports of contact with hostiles," another technician called out. "We have
cannon fire in The Docks, along with small arms fire."
"Get on the horn to Pease and Hanscom," Director Renick instructed. "Tell them to scramble their Alert aircraft ASAP. We've got hostiles on the ground."
"Two of the destroyers, HMS
Vampire and
Arunta are moving to screen The Rig and the rest are moving to screen the Navy Yard and the rest of their group," the technician who'd reported the cannon fire in The Docks stated. "I've got incoming chatter from HMS
Hermes and USS
Dwight D. Eisenhower. Hermes is spotting a CAP to cover from angels fifty, while Ike is waking up some Tomcats and Intruders."
The screens on the wall displayed the overall tactical view of the bay area, along with the data received from the multi-spectrum cameras mounted on the PRT building and on The Rig.
"Rig console is reporting cannon fire from the unknowns," a third technician reported. "Actual eighteenth century style cannons, firing round shot."
Director Renick keyed the microphone on his headset. "Rig, this is Renick actual, point defense is cleared hot, cleared hot, cleared hot."
"We copy, Director, point defense cleared hot," the console operator on The Rig responded.
"All units in the bay have opened up with point defense weapons," the third technician reported. The room shook a little. "It appears that HMS
Thanet hit something important; one of the intruder's ships has suffered a magazine explosion."
"That's cutting them down to size."
= = = = = = = = = =
"Sir, there appears to be some goings on over the harbor," the soldier reported to the black knight.
"Do tell," Ashram said drily. "When did this start?"
"About ten minutes ago," the man continued. "Appeared in the sky, began launching smaller ships, skiffs probably, and began trying to land on the south shore. Someone up there opened up with cannon, and then the ships in the water opened up with sorcery."
"Sorcery, soldier?" Ashram queried the man.
"Don't know what else to call it," the man admitted. "Beams of light, makes a snapping noise. Something closer to a bolt of lightning, and then there's the cannon on those Gith ships."
"Ah, so we have a Githyanki raiding force," Ashram said, nodding. "
That I'm somewhat familiar with. They're decent fighters, but they often have the attention spans of children on sweets. Double the watch," he ordered. "And have the crossbow men ready their weapons. Should a Githyanki approach the camp, shoot it until it's no longer doing that."
"Yes sir," the man answered before running off to the Captain who'd sent him.
"I suspect, Pirotess," he said to his companion, who remained in bed behind him, "that we're going to be unable to complete what we've started this evening."
"A shame, milord," the dark elf answered. "Shall I get dressed and go rouse Darshu and Arshes?"
Ashram listened for a bit, and heard someone's cackling laughter in the distance. "No need," he said. "He's already up and enjoying the show." There was a sound of one of the bastard's fire spells going off. "And shooting at someone who got a bit too close." There was a clap of thunder close by. "And it appears Arshes is a tad upset.
"We'd best get up and get this matter in hand," he continued, heading over to where his sword and helm were.
"As you wish, milord."
= = = = = = = = = =
Armsmaster dismounted the transport he and Dauntless had ridden from The Rig to the DWA's yard. He arched an eyebrow under his helmet as a crew of men operated what appeared to be a Bofors 40mm quad cannon in a rather efficient manner.
"Where the heck did they get that?" Dauntless muttered over the group's channel.
"Probably from a ship that was refurbished here while the port was still active," Armsmaster answered. He grabbed the weapon he'd chosen for this encounter, a large multi barrel grenade launcher whose magazine was loaded with confoam grenades. The concept was sound, except the weapon was too heavy for anyone not wearing power armor to use.
He had no such limitation.
The gun crew had stopped firing, taking a moment to take in the sight of Armsmaster tromping his way from the transport to stand in front of the flatbed truck that had been turned into a makeshift gun carrier.
Spotlights from the yard illuminated the few skiffs that made a landing, delivering about three dozen of the intruders, those left now taking cover behind various sturdy and substantial features of the yard. Many were cratered by the shells fired from the Bofors.
Alien, humanoid heads began poking out from behind the chunks of concrete and steel they'd been using for cover. Black and brown hair pulled into twin knots framed a face with yellowish skin and black eyes. One of them yelled something in a harsh, guttural language, then began laughing.
"They're insulting you, you know," another voice added.
Armsmaster and Dauntless looked over and down at the newcomer. The figure was clad head to toe in plate armor that was as exquisitely made as it must be heavy. Helm, breastplate, pauldrons, vambrace, gauntlets, cuisse, greaves, sabaton, tasset, culet… The figure was clad in steel. The gauntlets and belt were somewhat unusual, and the man carried a large ornate hammer in one hand.
"Your name, sir?" Armsmaster asked.
"Magnus Magnusson," came back the gruff answer.
"I'd like to speak with you after this," Armsmaster said.
"Githyanki are here to pillage and burn," Magnus explained. "The less they find to pillage, the more they'll simply kill and burn. They do not take prisoners."
"Understood. Gun crew!" he yelled back at the truck. "Withdraw and re-arm!"
"You got it, Armsmaster!" the overly large black man kitted out in modern body armor yelled back. A few bellowed orders and the diesel truck began to pull away.
The Githyanki began climbing out from behind their cover.
"Throw down your weapons and surrender," Armsmaster said over his onboard PA system, "or there will be trouble."
Laughter erupted along the line of alien warriors. Finally one of them shouted something back that while the words were not understood, the tone and intent were.
"They basically said 'Fuck You,'" Magnus added as brought his hammer to a ready position.
"
That I understood." With that, Armsmaster opened up with the grenade launcher on full auto.
- - - - - - - - - -
Zephron watched as Armsmaster, Dauntless and Magnus from the foundry and smithy held off the remaining two dozen of the raiders that had suddenly appeared out of thin air.
"Are Antti and Sasha set up?" he yelled to one of the men who was handling communications.
"They're ready!" the answer got yelled back.
"Have them cover those three, pick off any who look like they're gonna pull Cape shit," Zephron ordered as he helped load clips of forty millimeter shells into the ready magazine on the truck. "Danny's gonna be pissed we had to break this thing out," he grumbled as the ready magazines were topped off.
"Better it got used for this than against the Empire or the ABB," Mark yelled back. "And it's easier to ask for forgiveness than it is permission."
There was the booming noise of one of the two anti-material rifles firing from their positions overlooking the yard.
"This is gonna be a mess to clean up," Zephron muttered to himself as they got the truck ready to go back out, should they need it.
"Let's make sure we're here to do that," someone else said.
= = = = = = = = = =
"Kinda noisy out there," Kid Win said from where he was sitting in the Wards area, a can of something heavily caffeinated and probably unhealthy sitting on the table in front of him.
"Yes, it is," Naurelin answered. "Unfortunately, we're on alert, which means we're supposed to be ready when they need us."
"Unfortunately, it's just us four," Golem grumbled, a strong cup of coffee in front of him. His costume consisted of actual plate armor, though it was made from alloys medieval armorers could have only dreamed of. His shield, which bore the silver star on a blue field, was hanging up nearby, as was his sword.
"Us six, you mean," Vista added. "Glory Girl and Helbrede are on station." She listened to the console broadcasts over her earpiece. "Tamara and Lendys are at the hospital, along with four platoons of Col. Parker's men, so the hospital's covered."
"Naurelin up to the hangar area,
immediately," the console operator broadcast over the 1MC intercom.
"Great, it looks like I'm helping with casualties," Naurelin said as she got up and made her way out the door. "Hold that lift!" she yelled as she began running towards the lift for the hangar deck.
"And now, us three," Golem said as the door closed.
Vista smiled and shook her head before turning back to the Wards console.
"Don't worry," Kid Win said. "I'm sure they'll have something suitably gruesome and dangerous for us to do that will give Mrs. Freeman of the Youth Guard an aneurysm."
"Must you use such colorful metaphors?" Golem muttered from where he sat. "I mean, when our two crazies out in Phoenix get into it, they tried to keep the civvies out of it. Not always successfully, since some people fail their wisdom checks and decide to stay and video the living cartoon characters' shenanigans, and then get a rubber anvil falling on them. Those things aren't as soft as people think."
"Welcome back to Brockton Bay," Kid Win said to his obviously nervous fellow Ward.
- - - - - - - - - -
Naurelin emerged onto the hangar deck, where the EMTs were already prioritizing the first PRT casualties of the morning. "Hello, Helbrede."
"Hello," Helbrede (Amy was in her own dragon-girl form) answered. "Could you handle some of the yellow and red tags, please?"
"Can do." She walked over to one severely injured PRT trooper and applied one of her stronger healing effects. "Lots of slashes and stab wounds," she idly noted. "Swords?"
"Some arrows, too," the trooper she just healed said. "And a couple of minor Blasters."
"That would explain the burns," Naurelin answered. "The docs will want to check you over now."
"Thanks, I better let you get on to the next one."
Looking around, she decided to expend one of her higher level effects, and invoked
Mass Cure Wounds at the highest level she could manage. The hangar deck shone with a silvery light, which calmed and soothed while wounds stitched back together and broken bones knit, all harms made right.
And it had the desired effect. Everyone that had been brought in had been covered by the effect, and it had synergized with the ring Helbrede wore, healing and more importantly, restoring everyone on the deck, as if they had just woken up from a good night's sleep. Only a few people were incompletely recovered, and the staff shifted their attention accordingly.
Then she was a little wobbly on her feet. "Whoo, that takes a bit out of you," she said as she settled down to sit on the floor of the hangar deck. "But worth it."
Glory Girl floated over and helped Naurelin back to her feet. "Up you go," she said. "Hangar's not a place to be sitting down in." It was then that Taylor noted that Vicky was wearing her barbarian princess outfit from their trip to Sigil.
"Decided to rebrand?" Naurelin asked as she was helped over to the small terminal area to sit down.
"Yeah, I decided to retire the sundress and the tiara," Vicky responded. "Haven't decided if I should rename, too. This is a little warmer to wear, though I did manage to get the entire ensemble, so I can take away pieces for summer, and add them in winter. You're the first to notice. And this is a replica of the original, Parian put this together for me. Put some actual armor into it, too."
Helbrede joined them soon after. "Thanks for the help there," she commented, walking over to the coffee maker and pouring herself a cup. "I mean, I know that one, too, but you did something to make it more effective."
"How do I describe this?" Naurelin wondered aloud. "I have so many slots a day for spells to use," she explained. "And while I have higher level slots for levels of spells I can't cast, I can use them to boost lower level spells, if that makes sense. If the spell allows for it. And then I can alter any spell on the fly. I could make a fireball that wouldn't cause Vicky's forcefield to flicker, but would roast everything else around her."
"While being at the center of an explosion sounds awesome," Vicky enthused, "I'd rather not. It would take forever to get the smell of smoke and burnt things out of my costume."
All three of them shared a chuckle at that.
And then another transport arrived.
