Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
...why do I suddenly envision Engineers as disciples of the Kool-Aid Man?
Traveler [C&C3:KW Multicross SI]
E.I.G.
Robo-Bird
- Pronouns
- It/They
In Renegade, the FPS with a psudo-C&C mode, they are the multiplayer unit class with the most demolition charges.
In Red Alert 1 instead of always being able to capture a structure they could only do so when the building was in the red, 25% health or less, so if it wasn't they instantly took off a quarter of the things health.
They are most certainly "disciples of the Kool-Aid Man".
I wonder what the fallout for the PR obsessed clown will be if SI spins the invasion as a pissed off mining team retaliating over being attacked.
Or if SI implies that the Scrin have no clue why there's 'Ichor' in Sol, hence coming to investigate.
Or SI blames it all on Kane. GDI will believe the worst possible interpretation of anything involving Kane.
Or if SI implies that the Scrin have no clue why there's 'Ichor' in Sol, hence coming to investigate.
Or SI blames it all on Kane. GDI will believe the worst possible interpretation of anything involving Kane.
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Quick question to the science buffs here: Would nullifying the Moon's gravity for a short duration (let's say a minute or five) desolate the Earth?
I've got a couple of ideas regarding core drills and inverse gravity drives as anti-moonbase weapons, but I'd rather not kill off Mother Gaia by accident.
I've got a couple of ideas regarding core drills and inverse gravity drives as anti-moonbase weapons, but I'd rather not kill off Mother Gaia by accident.
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ltmauve
"Excuse me?"
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Losing the tides for a couple days shouldn't be a problem, and changes in the Earth's orbit due to the lack of moon should be on the order of tens of m/s (about 0.1% of solar orbital speed) tops. The biggest problem would probably be getting the moon back after you're finished with it (I'm assuming whatever you're using is Newton's 3rd law compliant.)
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Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
The Scrin have a very good grasp of antigravity technology based off all their tech, even to macroscale as evidenced by their capital ships and structures. A random plotbunny gave me the interesting idea to embed compact Gravity Stabilisers in a moon or small planetoid, and use their antigrav modules to reduce its gravity to +-0G.
Thereby "floating" the entire surface of the planetoid off as dispersing clouds of debris, effectively PWNing any standing structures and bunkers on it. Granted, it won't work for Earthlike and larger planets, but still.
ltmauve
"Excuse me?"
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Well...
You'd need to force the stuff to be lifted up somehow. If your gravity tech can't either invert and/or amplify gravity then I don't think you could do that.
A cheaper way would be to take the area around the base and either increase gravity until everything in the moonbase is pancaked, flip gravity rapidly until everything is broken, or just invert gravity strongly enough to pull the moonbase out into the open and shoot it.
You'd need to force the stuff to be lifted up somehow. If your gravity tech can't either invert and/or amplify gravity then I don't think you could do that.
A cheaper way would be to take the area around the base and either increase gravity until everything in the moonbase is pancaked, flip gravity rapidly until everything is broken, or just invert gravity strongly enough to pull the moonbase out into the open and shoot it.
Yeah, you're probably better off just using localized gravity-fuckery for that stuff rather than trying to affect the entire moon... unless they're covering the entire moon, in which case, same-difference.
11. Berne Bug-Bash - Wake Up and Smell the Napalm
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
"Traveler, what in the nine hells' is going in over there?" Gruber barked over the intercom at the waiting Shock Trooper serving as the two armies' mouthpiece. The bulky alien drone had been worryingly still for a good long while now. "Traveler, do you read? Traveler!"
Field reports were streaming in from the recon teams probing the southwestern portions of the city, drawing InOps' attention to slew of pitched battles all over the place. A total "fog of war" zone due to the GDI strike force due to having to divert assets towards capturing the promised enemy outpost, a few brave Pitbull crews had risked life and limb to ford deeper into enemy territory and were reportedly hearing huge amounts of Scrin gunfire on one of the derelict metropolitan expressways. Before falling back to friendly lines at full speed, the ranking Pitbull commander confirmed visuals of no less than an entire battalion of mixed heavy units and masses of infantry tangled in "one of the biggest clusterfucks he'd ever seen".
He knew the man personally, Sergeant Pyle had been serving under his command ever since the downsizing of the Cologne garrison and was one of the best vehicle commanders in the entire base. If a vet like him who'd lived through the Germany invasion was that spooked by whatever's going in in there, things were not looking good at all.
Making things worse was that their unofficial ally, Traveler's "ambassador" had gone deathly silent ever since half an hour ago, the formidable alien thing standing stock still like some eccentric sculptor's garden ornament. "Traveler, you've gone radio-silent for a while now, you having issues on your end?"He tried again, suppressing a sigh as the alien failed to respond. On-screen, the base cameras were showing a bunch of inquisitive greenies goofing off around the motionless insectoid, one trooper even prodding the Scrin's "eye" with a finger.
Gruber resisted the urge to facepalm.
Abruptly, the Shock Trooper jerked and retreated a step, "life" returning to its motionless form. The loitering troopers fell over in surprise at the sudden movement, shouting in surprise as the men picked themselves up and scrambled back to friendly lines in mortification. Emitting a strange electronic beep, the alien twitched and shook its "head" as if waking from a deep slumber. [Ah, Watch Commander,] the silvery lilt of their temporary ally, the enigmatic Scrin known as Traveler, flowed through the array of microphones ringing her (it, he reminded himself) "ambassador" and into the Command Post's intercom. [We are faring well enough, thank you for the concern. It seems that Reaper-17, our common foe, has decided to "remove" me by force, these matters tend to get out of hand often.] It was almost melodic in a sense, but the distinctly unearthly dual-tone in the disembodied voice sent chills down the man's spine. [Thank you for the concern though, Watch Commander.]
"Yeah right, pull the other one." Gruber huffed, folding his arms and glaring at the little webcam affixed atop his command terminal. "Satellite imaging's showing us a massive ground unit of unknown design laying into your forces with a god-damn tidal wave of lackeys, and you're telling me you're "faring well enough"? Pardon my French, but I think that's bullshit."
In the Command Post, everyone cringed. "Sir-" an InOps agent protested.
Ignoring the man, the Watch Commander resumed his tirade. "Look, I'unno whether you're doing this out of secrecy reasons, national pride or whatnot, but we're fighting this battle together. Those damn SOBs are heavily dug in over at their little fortress and we'll be needing all the manpower we can get to crack it open, so we frankly can't afford having your front collapse due to your people pulling the old "classified tech" act and getting in over your heads. If you need reinforcements, just say so and save us all this pussyfooting around."
Silence descended over the airwaves as Traveler's representative stilled, the alien's single "eye" staring right at the closest surveillance camera. Within the Command Post, Gruber felt the eyes of his fellow command personnel on his back, many glaring at him in a mixture of worry and accusation. "God help us all," someone muttered none too quietly, "you've gone and offended the only friendly Scrin force on the planet in a single day. Excellent work."
[Quiet.] The lone word cut through the chilled air-conditioned air, strangling the growing outcry in their cribs. On a widescreen installed at the forefront of the Battle Room, the shadowed figure of the GDI Field Commander steepled his hands in front of his face, expression hidden from the occupants of the Command Post. [Commander Gruber's approach gives us an opportunity to observe Traveler's reaction to probing attempts, monitor all troop movements in their AO and wait for a response. Let's see how they tick.]
[…I see your point.] After seemingly an eternity, Traveler's Shock Trooper representative finally replied. [It was rather foolhardy of me to try to take on Reaper-17 alone, I apologise for my rashness. Some assistance would be much appreciated.] The assembled officers in the Command Post let out their collectively held breaths as it became apparent that their alien ally wasn't offended by the tirade. Traveler sounded almost… contrite, even. [The large land unit your reconnaissance has spotted is a Scrin superheavy offensive unit known as the Eradicator Hexapod in your language, designed to be an anti-settlement siege unit for dealing with massive amounts of entrenched enemy forces. Its main armament is intended for massed area-of-effect bombardments and eliminating large numbers of lesser units, while its secondary batteries give it considerable anti-aerial and potent short-ranged anti-armour capabilities.] As hastily-translated files containing information on the Scrin warmachine began appearing on the Command Post's screens, Traveler continued. [It has been classified as a high-priority target for me to disable and recapture intact, but I am facing issues with dealing with the swarms of lesser enemies surrounding it. If possible, we would be grateful if you could "remove" them for us.]
Wordlessly, the Commander nodded. Mouthing "yes, sir" to his superior, Watch Commander Elliot Gruber brandished a distinctively feral grin. "I'm sure you'll find humanity plenty capable to dealing with these sorts of things."
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Oh? Impress me, good sir. I've got high expectations of the illustrious GDI.
The battle in the Swiss city was in full swing now, with both the expressway and the neighbouring streets alight with shining plasma. Ravagers were leaping off building walls like memetic ninjas and duelling mandible-to-mandible while Disintegrators and Shock Troopers engaged in firefights across the streets, the shooting matches occasionally broken up by swarming clouds of combating Buzzers sweeping past the ruined buildings like a fog of flying razors. On the main roads themselves, lines of Devourer Tanks and Tripods of both varieties traded cannon fire in brutal slugging matches in a striking image of naval battles of old, the harsh "pew-pew" whining of high-power plasma artillery intermixing with the concussive thumps of exploding vehicles as tank and walker alike flung streams of superheated matter at their doppelgangers.
Amongst the ranks of gleaming Ichor-alloy armour as they marched into battle, scores of lesser Seekers and Gun/Shard Walkers scuttled through gaps in the ranks as they flung searing beams and supersonic flechettes into the air as moving umbrellas of weapons fire keeping back the masses of duelling Stormriders as the gunships swooped and soared in their deadly dance through the storm-laden skies, Invader fighters were crafted, deployed and died in droves as ablative shields for their PACs and Devastator Warships hidden in artificial Ion Storms even as nonstop volleys of Plasma Discs arced through ever-shifting holes in the flying veil of drone fighters.
It was carnage. It was chaos.
It was GLORIOUS.
…it was really, really expensive.
From the looks of it, both we and Reaper-17 had utterly blown our respective economies to Kingdom Come for this decisive battle, a land bound re-enactment of the Battle of Leyte Gulf in WWII. The Drone Platform and Giant Enemy Crab back at Southern Base were spamming Refineries, Power Plants and Harvesters as frequently as their build queues allowed, going over the Ichor Fields with a hundred fine-toothed combs to dredge up every last particle of precious Ichor to feed the coffers. Over at the blockade, the clutch of subordinate Drone Platforms stationed there were throwing up Proton Cannons, Storm Columns and Plasma Missile Batteries as fast as they could, stopping every so often to spit out a Nod-design Turret Assembly Pack beamed in from the Giant Enemy Crab into the waiting arms of Construction Drones loitering nearby.
Right, I can't afford to be lazy either!
Floating serenely above the ranks of my Devourers, my personal ADP was giving as good as I got. The numerous batteries of Spitfire Lasers, originally installed as a lark, were coming in handy as I unleashed a curtain of laser fire upon enemy Stormriders soaring overhead, the sheer multitude of the "flashlights" more than making up for their weaker strength as I carved a swath of destruction through the skies, maintaining a protective AAA umbrella over the tank legions as a floating fortress and calling out targets with my advanced sensors to the tune of the nonstop hammering of the ten or so Specter Artillery units stationed behind.
"Glorious, glorious destruction!" One of the Cultist crewmembers cackled as his vehicle's autoloaders clicked empty for the twentieth time. "Praise the Foreman and pass the ammunition!"
…gee, I'm starting to suspect that these Cultists didn't need all that much mental conditioning after all.
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On the blasted remains of a ten-lane superhighway, the Devourer Tanks huddled together in the face of the unrelenting storm of enemy fire flung at them. Most of the Devourers at the forefront of the brawl had long since run out of Ichor for their Conversion Beams and were resorting to their normal cannons, bunching together to serve as walls absorbing enemy fire and shielding their fresher brethren and towering Tripods, sacrificing themselves to ensure that the newer tanks could fire their filled Conversion Beams as many times as possible.
In the space commonly known as "no man's land", a battered Annihilator Tripod gave a dying roar as a Conversion beam sliced through its forelegs. Its three beam arrays flailing wildly and carving deep trenches in the asphalt, the mighty walker's remaining leg, unable to support its considerable weight, buckled beneath it and snapped, sending the Annihilator reeling back towards the earth. The walker's beam arrays, despite their host's sudden descent, still strained in vain to line up one last shot at the masses of Reaper vehicles just in front of it.
With a resounding boom, the walker fell. And inexplicably began to rise again.
Confused, the Annihilator Tripod twisted its torso to look below it. A horribly damaged Devourer Tank, its main gun all but sheared off by enemy fire, had dove under the collapsing walker at the very last second, propping up the damaged Annihilator with its own bulk. With a motion reminiscent of a shovel, the damaged tank gently "scooped" the kneecapped Tripod onto its back, its internal antigravity systems screaming from the strain.
Noticing the gaze on the Tripod on its back, the Devourer emitted a single high-pitched beep.
The Tripod, catching on, groaned in reply and raised its beam arrays.
The combined duo of amputated Annihilator Tripod and defanged Devourer Tripod steamed into battle, firing all the way as they waded into one of the greatest gun duels the city of Berne had ever seen. The Annihilator Tripod, despite the loss of most of its legs, kept its formidable beam arrays pouring deadly light into the ranks of enemy vehicles while shielding its smaller comrade from harm with its thicker armour, while the Devourer Tank, even with its shattered armour and broken cannon, held up the body of its partner and dragged it away from the worst of the firestorm. As the seconds turned into minutes and even hours, the duo held on, each doing their part to help each other survive.
In a sea of identical warmachines fighting and dying every second, a walker and a tank fought together as one.
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The Rioter Buggy emitted a sharp squeal as it unleashed a torrent of proton cannon fire at a pack of Disintegrators hiding inside a building, screeching shortly after as the Disintegrator's return fire sliced through its thin armour and killed it. With a sharp bang, the buggy exploded, its remains littering the floor heavily strewn with the wrecks of Traveler-59 light vehicles.
The Disintegrators in the burned-out apartment building skittered to each other and scrambled to reposition at different windows, in preparation for the next column of enemy vehicles. The apartment building that the gunbots had stationed themselves in had a perfect overlook of one of the bigger roads in the downtown zone, giving the Disintegrators no shortage of targets in the form of passing Seekers and Gun Walkers rushing to reinforce their beleaguered infantry bogged down in the many firefights across the city. A few Rioter Buggies had already attempted to dislodge the infantry, but only managed to kill a few of them before inevitably being destroyed.
Most of the surviving Disintegrators had lived through many such attacks, their combat routines growing well-accustomed to street fighting and the art of taking cover. Many of them had kill numbers in the high double-digits already.
"HOKUTO! ENKAN ZANSHU KYAKU!"
"GANZAN RYOZAN HA!"
The Disintegrators jolted in surprise as a deep voice called out from somewhere in the building, shortly followed by the death squeals of multiple Disintegrators. Alarmed, the bioroids hissed and scrambled back into the building, looking to find and destroy the intruder.
What greeted them was the sight of dismembered Disintegrators scattered all over the place. And a conspicuously empty room.
Hunching low to the ground, the leading Disintegrator gave a series of short barks and the gunbots split, forming into packs of three and creeping deeper into the apartment. The ranking Disintegrator took point, kicking in nearby doors and sweeping the abandoned rooms for any sign of enemy units.
They found absolutely nothing. Several minutes ticked by in the tense silence.
"HOKUTO! HYAPPO ZAN!"
Several death cries rang out, shattering the silence.
With a piercing screech, the trio of Disintegrators scrambled out of the room and caught sight of their mysterious foe: A lone Ravager standing in the middle of a pile of scattered limbs belonging to the rest of their pack. Immediately dropping into low crouches, the three disintegrators spread out and charged up their muzzle-mounted Plasma Cutters.
The Ravager moved.
"HICHO KUZAN PA!" the larger infantry unit roared as it pounced with startling speed, whipping its body round to spear one of the Disintegrators with its sharp right legs, kicking off of the corpse to land in front of one of the other gunbots. "HAGAN KEN!" the murderous bioroid roared as it swung one of its longer mandibles in a devastating diagonal uppercut, spearing the Disintegrator through the side of its head and causing the bot's Plasma Cutter to crumple inward. Springing back to its original position, the Ravager deftly sidestepped the lead Disintegrator's poorly aimed shot and slipped into a ready stance, while the poor Disintegrator turned to stare at the brutally-slaughtered corpses of its squadmates.
Which then inexplicably bloated and exploded with loud bangs of discharging plasma.
Turning back towards its foe, the lone Disintegrator brought its charged Plasma Cutter to bear on the killer of its brethren, only to jerk in alarm as the Ravager was already bare centimetres in front of it. "HOKUTO!" a deep Asian voice cried out from the scarab bioroid's external speakers as it swung its forelegs forward, piercing the Disintegrator's fleshy body with multiple powerful jabs. "HYAKURETSU!" it continued, spearing the four-legged gunbot repeatedly as it drove the poor Disintegrator up against one of the building's walls.
As the bleeding Disintegrator sagged against the cracked plaster surface, the Ravager coiled up for a coup de grace. With a final cry, the Ravager unleashed a brutal flurry of devastating strikes on its hapless foe. "KEN!!"
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Leaping from a fifth-storey window, the Ravager landed with a muffled thump and dusted off its flank with one of its mandibles. Looking back at the ruined building, the Ravager huffed and turned away. "Omae wa mou shindeiru." It muttered.
A loud bang resounded and the ruined building, structural integrity overwhelmed at last, collapsed into a whirling cloud of dust as a lone Ravager scuttled away.
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Voice, transmit! NOW!
[Firing order sent.]
I winced as a trio of artillery shells came crashing down from the heavens, the laser-guided warhead following the beam projected by a tacked-on Artillery Beacon on my "fuselage" right into the midst of a forming spearhead of Reaper Tripods. The resultant blast briefly whited out my optical sensors and hobbled a good chunk of the walkers, giving our battered lines a much-needed respite.
Damn it, when I was playing C&C, I'd never expected combat to be this exhausting. The smallish Venom-scale Spitfire Lasers on my ADP swung round to zap a Seeker exposed by the scattering of the walker rush, nine ruby-red lances of light spearing through the alien light tank and cooking off its reactor with a loud bang. With luck, that should give my air forces a bit of relief in this mess.
There was no other way to put it: we were losing. Despite the earlier skirmishes cutting down a large number of their units and giving us a slight numerical advantage, the mechanized forces of Reaper-17 still outmatched us pound for pound. Sacrificing speed for armor and firepower, the Reaper-model Devourers and Tripods were slowly but surely grinding down our lines with sheer brute force. Compounding matters, massed swarms of Buzzers were bogging down the infantry in the urban areas and preventing them from flanking the Reaper lines, roving Rioter Buggy and Corruptor patrols were the only thing holding back a counter-flank of their own.
On the highway, the seven remaining Devastator Warships were singlehandedly holding up the frontlines on their lonesome, their Plasma Disc Batteries had been firing nonstop for over an hour already, each volley of searing shells punching dents in the Reaper horde. Reaper-17 had definitely took notice however, I'd been noticing a upsurge of AAA units and Stormriders appearing around their estimated position within the PACs' Ion Storms, my own Stormriders and Invaders were taking an absolute mauling just to keep the artillery ships safe from enemy fire. One of the PACs already had to be recalled after sustaining severe damage in a freak Shard barrage from a gang of Shard Walkers, and the Stormrider squadrons had shrunk by over a half even with rapid replacements.
Damn. We're reaching our yield point, aren't we? The armor front's bare minutes away from folding, the infantry battle's turned into full-blown urban warfare and the Devastators' are reporting that they're actually running out of fusile material.
The battle's nearly as good as lost, just a little longer in the meatgrinder and our forces'll fold like rice paper. However, there's one thing I can do that juuust might turn the tide (or buy us a little more time).
A diversion. Send in the bombers!
In flashes of not-light, a squadron of four Vertigo Bombers abruptly appeared over the massed ranks of Reaper-17 vehicles. The packs of Shard Seekers and Shard Walkers were already firing as soon as the sleek aircraft materialized, rapidly filling the air with supersonic Ichor needles. All four of the Vertigos promptly exploded, their Cultist pilots barely having time to blink before being consumed by the fireball.
Too late though, the Vertigo Bombers' payloads were already falling.
Sharp puffs of air filled the air as the Tiberium Vapor Bombs burst, blanketing the roads with noxious Ichor fumes. Canister-shaped detonators nestled within the cores of the bombs triggered and rammed a series of high-voltage sparks into the clouds, setting off a catastrophic chain reaction among the fog of volatile gases. Within seconds, the entire expressway was smothered under a roiling fireball, the clalamitous blast flaying tanks and walkers down to the bone.
Four gaping holes appeared in the enemy lines, filled with horrifically charred husks and the pervasive chemical scent of roasted Scrin. Several of our own tanks had been caught up in the blast as well, a small price to pay.
And now, before Reaper-17 gets his wits back in order and regroups, it's time for me to make a move.
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[REAPER.]
The Foreman jerked in surprise as a transmission cut through the airwaves, distracting it from managing the warfront. Holding off on deploying the Eradicator Hexapod on a linebreaking charge on the wavering Traveler-59 lines, the member of the esteemed Cult of the Reaper summoned up the visual feed of its greatest weapon.
What it saw surprised it further.
Half-hidden by the whirling clouds of acrid smog caused by the Traveler-59 Foreman's latest attack, a noticeably customised Drone Ship levitated serenely in front of the phalanx of enemy Devourer Tanks. A far cry from being an unarmed construction vehicle, the Drone Ship was slightly bulkier than the original design and was no doubt miles more dangerous, its thrusters flaring with power and its curved hull lines with stubby barrels glowing red with energy.
The Drone Ship was also very conspicuously linked to every single enemy unit on the battlefront, potentially even the entire enemy force.
Was this a challenge? The Cult of the Traveler actually dared to challenge a Reaper?!
The mysterious Drone Ship, perhaps in response to the unspoken challenge, aligned all of its weapons towards the Eradicator Hexapod and transmitted its reply.
[COME AT ME.]
The Foreman chittered in amusement. Interesting.
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There now, I've gone and called out the biggest meanest alien in the entire city for an honor duel.
The ranks of Reaper tanks parted like the Red Seas as the massive bulk of the Eradicator Hexapod strode out onto the battered highway, stopping a distance in front of my ADP. Rearing up onto its hind legs, the Eradicator unleashed an earthshaking roar that caused the beat-up superhighway to tremor.
...I'm not very smart, am I?
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Author's Note: Holy wow that was a lot of writing. My brain hurts, but at least my muse is sated for now. The next segment will conclude the Berne confrontation at long last, finally letting the poor, poor Foreman get some much needed rest. By way of induced coma.
Once again, thanks for reading! Reviews and criticisms are welcome as always! The likebombs! How am I supposed to react to all this likebombing?! HEEEEEEELP!!!
Field reports were streaming in from the recon teams probing the southwestern portions of the city, drawing InOps' attention to slew of pitched battles all over the place. A total "fog of war" zone due to the GDI strike force due to having to divert assets towards capturing the promised enemy outpost, a few brave Pitbull crews had risked life and limb to ford deeper into enemy territory and were reportedly hearing huge amounts of Scrin gunfire on one of the derelict metropolitan expressways. Before falling back to friendly lines at full speed, the ranking Pitbull commander confirmed visuals of no less than an entire battalion of mixed heavy units and masses of infantry tangled in "one of the biggest clusterfucks he'd ever seen".
He knew the man personally, Sergeant Pyle had been serving under his command ever since the downsizing of the Cologne garrison and was one of the best vehicle commanders in the entire base. If a vet like him who'd lived through the Germany invasion was that spooked by whatever's going in in there, things were not looking good at all.
Making things worse was that their unofficial ally, Traveler's "ambassador" had gone deathly silent ever since half an hour ago, the formidable alien thing standing stock still like some eccentric sculptor's garden ornament. "Traveler, you've gone radio-silent for a while now, you having issues on your end?"He tried again, suppressing a sigh as the alien failed to respond. On-screen, the base cameras were showing a bunch of inquisitive greenies goofing off around the motionless insectoid, one trooper even prodding the Scrin's "eye" with a finger.
Gruber resisted the urge to facepalm.
Abruptly, the Shock Trooper jerked and retreated a step, "life" returning to its motionless form. The loitering troopers fell over in surprise at the sudden movement, shouting in surprise as the men picked themselves up and scrambled back to friendly lines in mortification. Emitting a strange electronic beep, the alien twitched and shook its "head" as if waking from a deep slumber. [Ah, Watch Commander,] the silvery lilt of their temporary ally, the enigmatic Scrin known as Traveler, flowed through the array of microphones ringing her (it, he reminded himself) "ambassador" and into the Command Post's intercom. [We are faring well enough, thank you for the concern. It seems that Reaper-17, our common foe, has decided to "remove" me by force, these matters tend to get out of hand often.] It was almost melodic in a sense, but the distinctly unearthly dual-tone in the disembodied voice sent chills down the man's spine. [Thank you for the concern though, Watch Commander.]
"Yeah right, pull the other one." Gruber huffed, folding his arms and glaring at the little webcam affixed atop his command terminal. "Satellite imaging's showing us a massive ground unit of unknown design laying into your forces with a god-damn tidal wave of lackeys, and you're telling me you're "faring well enough"? Pardon my French, but I think that's bullshit."
In the Command Post, everyone cringed. "Sir-" an InOps agent protested.
Ignoring the man, the Watch Commander resumed his tirade. "Look, I'unno whether you're doing this out of secrecy reasons, national pride or whatnot, but we're fighting this battle together. Those damn SOBs are heavily dug in over at their little fortress and we'll be needing all the manpower we can get to crack it open, so we frankly can't afford having your front collapse due to your people pulling the old "classified tech" act and getting in over your heads. If you need reinforcements, just say so and save us all this pussyfooting around."
Silence descended over the airwaves as Traveler's representative stilled, the alien's single "eye" staring right at the closest surveillance camera. Within the Command Post, Gruber felt the eyes of his fellow command personnel on his back, many glaring at him in a mixture of worry and accusation. "God help us all," someone muttered none too quietly, "you've gone and offended the only friendly Scrin force on the planet in a single day. Excellent work."
[Quiet.] The lone word cut through the chilled air-conditioned air, strangling the growing outcry in their cribs. On a widescreen installed at the forefront of the Battle Room, the shadowed figure of the GDI Field Commander steepled his hands in front of his face, expression hidden from the occupants of the Command Post. [Commander Gruber's approach gives us an opportunity to observe Traveler's reaction to probing attempts, monitor all troop movements in their AO and wait for a response. Let's see how they tick.]
[…I see your point.] After seemingly an eternity, Traveler's Shock Trooper representative finally replied. [It was rather foolhardy of me to try to take on Reaper-17 alone, I apologise for my rashness. Some assistance would be much appreciated.] The assembled officers in the Command Post let out their collectively held breaths as it became apparent that their alien ally wasn't offended by the tirade. Traveler sounded almost… contrite, even. [The large land unit your reconnaissance has spotted is a Scrin superheavy offensive unit known as the Eradicator Hexapod in your language, designed to be an anti-settlement siege unit for dealing with massive amounts of entrenched enemy forces. Its main armament is intended for massed area-of-effect bombardments and eliminating large numbers of lesser units, while its secondary batteries give it considerable anti-aerial and potent short-ranged anti-armour capabilities.] As hastily-translated files containing information on the Scrin warmachine began appearing on the Command Post's screens, Traveler continued. [It has been classified as a high-priority target for me to disable and recapture intact, but I am facing issues with dealing with the swarms of lesser enemies surrounding it. If possible, we would be grateful if you could "remove" them for us.]
Wordlessly, the Commander nodded. Mouthing "yes, sir" to his superior, Watch Commander Elliot Gruber brandished a distinctively feral grin. "I'm sure you'll find humanity plenty capable to dealing with these sorts of things."
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Oh? Impress me, good sir. I've got high expectations of the illustrious GDI.
The battle in the Swiss city was in full swing now, with both the expressway and the neighbouring streets alight with shining plasma. Ravagers were leaping off building walls like memetic ninjas and duelling mandible-to-mandible while Disintegrators and Shock Troopers engaged in firefights across the streets, the shooting matches occasionally broken up by swarming clouds of combating Buzzers sweeping past the ruined buildings like a fog of flying razors. On the main roads themselves, lines of Devourer Tanks and Tripods of both varieties traded cannon fire in brutal slugging matches in a striking image of naval battles of old, the harsh "pew-pew" whining of high-power plasma artillery intermixing with the concussive thumps of exploding vehicles as tank and walker alike flung streams of superheated matter at their doppelgangers.
Amongst the ranks of gleaming Ichor-alloy armour as they marched into battle, scores of lesser Seekers and Gun/Shard Walkers scuttled through gaps in the ranks as they flung searing beams and supersonic flechettes into the air as moving umbrellas of weapons fire keeping back the masses of duelling Stormriders as the gunships swooped and soared in their deadly dance through the storm-laden skies, Invader fighters were crafted, deployed and died in droves as ablative shields for their PACs and Devastator Warships hidden in artificial Ion Storms even as nonstop volleys of Plasma Discs arced through ever-shifting holes in the flying veil of drone fighters.
It was carnage. It was chaos.
It was GLORIOUS.
…it was really, really expensive.
From the looks of it, both we and Reaper-17 had utterly blown our respective economies to Kingdom Come for this decisive battle, a land bound re-enactment of the Battle of Leyte Gulf in WWII. The Drone Platform and Giant Enemy Crab back at Southern Base were spamming Refineries, Power Plants and Harvesters as frequently as their build queues allowed, going over the Ichor Fields with a hundred fine-toothed combs to dredge up every last particle of precious Ichor to feed the coffers. Over at the blockade, the clutch of subordinate Drone Platforms stationed there were throwing up Proton Cannons, Storm Columns and Plasma Missile Batteries as fast as they could, stopping every so often to spit out a Nod-design Turret Assembly Pack beamed in from the Giant Enemy Crab into the waiting arms of Construction Drones loitering nearby.
Right, I can't afford to be lazy either!
Floating serenely above the ranks of my Devourers, my personal ADP was giving as good as I got. The numerous batteries of Spitfire Lasers, originally installed as a lark, were coming in handy as I unleashed a curtain of laser fire upon enemy Stormriders soaring overhead, the sheer multitude of the "flashlights" more than making up for their weaker strength as I carved a swath of destruction through the skies, maintaining a protective AAA umbrella over the tank legions as a floating fortress and calling out targets with my advanced sensors to the tune of the nonstop hammering of the ten or so Specter Artillery units stationed behind.
"Glorious, glorious destruction!" One of the Cultist crewmembers cackled as his vehicle's autoloaders clicked empty for the twentieth time. "Praise the Foreman and pass the ammunition!"
…gee, I'm starting to suspect that these Cultists didn't need all that much mental conditioning after all.
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On the blasted remains of a ten-lane superhighway, the Devourer Tanks huddled together in the face of the unrelenting storm of enemy fire flung at them. Most of the Devourers at the forefront of the brawl had long since run out of Ichor for their Conversion Beams and were resorting to their normal cannons, bunching together to serve as walls absorbing enemy fire and shielding their fresher brethren and towering Tripods, sacrificing themselves to ensure that the newer tanks could fire their filled Conversion Beams as many times as possible.
In the space commonly known as "no man's land", a battered Annihilator Tripod gave a dying roar as a Conversion beam sliced through its forelegs. Its three beam arrays flailing wildly and carving deep trenches in the asphalt, the mighty walker's remaining leg, unable to support its considerable weight, buckled beneath it and snapped, sending the Annihilator reeling back towards the earth. The walker's beam arrays, despite their host's sudden descent, still strained in vain to line up one last shot at the masses of Reaper vehicles just in front of it.
With a resounding boom, the walker fell. And inexplicably began to rise again.
Confused, the Annihilator Tripod twisted its torso to look below it. A horribly damaged Devourer Tank, its main gun all but sheared off by enemy fire, had dove under the collapsing walker at the very last second, propping up the damaged Annihilator with its own bulk. With a motion reminiscent of a shovel, the damaged tank gently "scooped" the kneecapped Tripod onto its back, its internal antigravity systems screaming from the strain.
Noticing the gaze on the Tripod on its back, the Devourer emitted a single high-pitched beep.
The Tripod, catching on, groaned in reply and raised its beam arrays.
The combined duo of amputated Annihilator Tripod and defanged Devourer Tripod steamed into battle, firing all the way as they waded into one of the greatest gun duels the city of Berne had ever seen. The Annihilator Tripod, despite the loss of most of its legs, kept its formidable beam arrays pouring deadly light into the ranks of enemy vehicles while shielding its smaller comrade from harm with its thicker armour, while the Devourer Tank, even with its shattered armour and broken cannon, held up the body of its partner and dragged it away from the worst of the firestorm. As the seconds turned into minutes and even hours, the duo held on, each doing their part to help each other survive.
In a sea of identical warmachines fighting and dying every second, a walker and a tank fought together as one.
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The Rioter Buggy emitted a sharp squeal as it unleashed a torrent of proton cannon fire at a pack of Disintegrators hiding inside a building, screeching shortly after as the Disintegrator's return fire sliced through its thin armour and killed it. With a sharp bang, the buggy exploded, its remains littering the floor heavily strewn with the wrecks of Traveler-59 light vehicles.
The Disintegrators in the burned-out apartment building skittered to each other and scrambled to reposition at different windows, in preparation for the next column of enemy vehicles. The apartment building that the gunbots had stationed themselves in had a perfect overlook of one of the bigger roads in the downtown zone, giving the Disintegrators no shortage of targets in the form of passing Seekers and Gun Walkers rushing to reinforce their beleaguered infantry bogged down in the many firefights across the city. A few Rioter Buggies had already attempted to dislodge the infantry, but only managed to kill a few of them before inevitably being destroyed.
Most of the surviving Disintegrators had lived through many such attacks, their combat routines growing well-accustomed to street fighting and the art of taking cover. Many of them had kill numbers in the high double-digits already.
"HOKUTO! ENKAN ZANSHU KYAKU!"
"GANZAN RYOZAN HA!"
The Disintegrators jolted in surprise as a deep voice called out from somewhere in the building, shortly followed by the death squeals of multiple Disintegrators. Alarmed, the bioroids hissed and scrambled back into the building, looking to find and destroy the intruder.
What greeted them was the sight of dismembered Disintegrators scattered all over the place. And a conspicuously empty room.
Hunching low to the ground, the leading Disintegrator gave a series of short barks and the gunbots split, forming into packs of three and creeping deeper into the apartment. The ranking Disintegrator took point, kicking in nearby doors and sweeping the abandoned rooms for any sign of enemy units.
They found absolutely nothing. Several minutes ticked by in the tense silence.
"HOKUTO! HYAPPO ZAN!"
Several death cries rang out, shattering the silence.
With a piercing screech, the trio of Disintegrators scrambled out of the room and caught sight of their mysterious foe: A lone Ravager standing in the middle of a pile of scattered limbs belonging to the rest of their pack. Immediately dropping into low crouches, the three disintegrators spread out and charged up their muzzle-mounted Plasma Cutters.
The Ravager moved.
"HICHO KUZAN PA!" the larger infantry unit roared as it pounced with startling speed, whipping its body round to spear one of the Disintegrators with its sharp right legs, kicking off of the corpse to land in front of one of the other gunbots. "HAGAN KEN!" the murderous bioroid roared as it swung one of its longer mandibles in a devastating diagonal uppercut, spearing the Disintegrator through the side of its head and causing the bot's Plasma Cutter to crumple inward. Springing back to its original position, the Ravager deftly sidestepped the lead Disintegrator's poorly aimed shot and slipped into a ready stance, while the poor Disintegrator turned to stare at the brutally-slaughtered corpses of its squadmates.
Which then inexplicably bloated and exploded with loud bangs of discharging plasma.
Turning back towards its foe, the lone Disintegrator brought its charged Plasma Cutter to bear on the killer of its brethren, only to jerk in alarm as the Ravager was already bare centimetres in front of it. "HOKUTO!" a deep Asian voice cried out from the scarab bioroid's external speakers as it swung its forelegs forward, piercing the Disintegrator's fleshy body with multiple powerful jabs. "HYAKURETSU!" it continued, spearing the four-legged gunbot repeatedly as it drove the poor Disintegrator up against one of the building's walls.
As the bleeding Disintegrator sagged against the cracked plaster surface, the Ravager coiled up for a coup de grace. With a final cry, the Ravager unleashed a brutal flurry of devastating strikes on its hapless foe. "KEN!!"
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Leaping from a fifth-storey window, the Ravager landed with a muffled thump and dusted off its flank with one of its mandibles. Looking back at the ruined building, the Ravager huffed and turned away. "Omae wa mou shindeiru." It muttered.
A loud bang resounded and the ruined building, structural integrity overwhelmed at last, collapsed into a whirling cloud of dust as a lone Ravager scuttled away.
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Voice, transmit! NOW!
[Firing order sent.]
I winced as a trio of artillery shells came crashing down from the heavens, the laser-guided warhead following the beam projected by a tacked-on Artillery Beacon on my "fuselage" right into the midst of a forming spearhead of Reaper Tripods. The resultant blast briefly whited out my optical sensors and hobbled a good chunk of the walkers, giving our battered lines a much-needed respite.
Damn it, when I was playing C&C, I'd never expected combat to be this exhausting. The smallish Venom-scale Spitfire Lasers on my ADP swung round to zap a Seeker exposed by the scattering of the walker rush, nine ruby-red lances of light spearing through the alien light tank and cooking off its reactor with a loud bang. With luck, that should give my air forces a bit of relief in this mess.
There was no other way to put it: we were losing. Despite the earlier skirmishes cutting down a large number of their units and giving us a slight numerical advantage, the mechanized forces of Reaper-17 still outmatched us pound for pound. Sacrificing speed for armor and firepower, the Reaper-model Devourers and Tripods were slowly but surely grinding down our lines with sheer brute force. Compounding matters, massed swarms of Buzzers were bogging down the infantry in the urban areas and preventing them from flanking the Reaper lines, roving Rioter Buggy and Corruptor patrols were the only thing holding back a counter-flank of their own.
On the highway, the seven remaining Devastator Warships were singlehandedly holding up the frontlines on their lonesome, their Plasma Disc Batteries had been firing nonstop for over an hour already, each volley of searing shells punching dents in the Reaper horde. Reaper-17 had definitely took notice however, I'd been noticing a upsurge of AAA units and Stormriders appearing around their estimated position within the PACs' Ion Storms, my own Stormriders and Invaders were taking an absolute mauling just to keep the artillery ships safe from enemy fire. One of the PACs already had to be recalled after sustaining severe damage in a freak Shard barrage from a gang of Shard Walkers, and the Stormrider squadrons had shrunk by over a half even with rapid replacements.
Damn. We're reaching our yield point, aren't we? The armor front's bare minutes away from folding, the infantry battle's turned into full-blown urban warfare and the Devastators' are reporting that they're actually running out of fusile material.
The battle's nearly as good as lost, just a little longer in the meatgrinder and our forces'll fold like rice paper. However, there's one thing I can do that juuust might turn the tide (or buy us a little more time).
A diversion. Send in the bombers!
In flashes of not-light, a squadron of four Vertigo Bombers abruptly appeared over the massed ranks of Reaper-17 vehicles. The packs of Shard Seekers and Shard Walkers were already firing as soon as the sleek aircraft materialized, rapidly filling the air with supersonic Ichor needles. All four of the Vertigos promptly exploded, their Cultist pilots barely having time to blink before being consumed by the fireball.
Too late though, the Vertigo Bombers' payloads were already falling.
Sharp puffs of air filled the air as the Tiberium Vapor Bombs burst, blanketing the roads with noxious Ichor fumes. Canister-shaped detonators nestled within the cores of the bombs triggered and rammed a series of high-voltage sparks into the clouds, setting off a catastrophic chain reaction among the fog of volatile gases. Within seconds, the entire expressway was smothered under a roiling fireball, the clalamitous blast flaying tanks and walkers down to the bone.
Four gaping holes appeared in the enemy lines, filled with horrifically charred husks and the pervasive chemical scent of roasted Scrin. Several of our own tanks had been caught up in the blast as well, a small price to pay.
And now, before Reaper-17 gets his wits back in order and regroups, it's time for me to make a move.
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[REAPER.]
The Foreman jerked in surprise as a transmission cut through the airwaves, distracting it from managing the warfront. Holding off on deploying the Eradicator Hexapod on a linebreaking charge on the wavering Traveler-59 lines, the member of the esteemed Cult of the Reaper summoned up the visual feed of its greatest weapon.
What it saw surprised it further.
Half-hidden by the whirling clouds of acrid smog caused by the Traveler-59 Foreman's latest attack, a noticeably customised Drone Ship levitated serenely in front of the phalanx of enemy Devourer Tanks. A far cry from being an unarmed construction vehicle, the Drone Ship was slightly bulkier than the original design and was no doubt miles more dangerous, its thrusters flaring with power and its curved hull lines with stubby barrels glowing red with energy.
The Drone Ship was also very conspicuously linked to every single enemy unit on the battlefront, potentially even the entire enemy force.
Was this a challenge? The Cult of the Traveler actually dared to challenge a Reaper?!
The mysterious Drone Ship, perhaps in response to the unspoken challenge, aligned all of its weapons towards the Eradicator Hexapod and transmitted its reply.
[COME AT ME.]
The Foreman chittered in amusement. Interesting.
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There now, I've gone and called out the biggest meanest alien in the entire city for an honor duel.
The ranks of Reaper tanks parted like the Red Seas as the massive bulk of the Eradicator Hexapod strode out onto the battered highway, stopping a distance in front of my ADP. Rearing up onto its hind legs, the Eradicator unleashed an earthshaking roar that caused the beat-up superhighway to tremor.
...I'm not very smart, am I?
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Author's Note: Holy wow that was a lot of writing. My brain hurts, but at least my muse is sated for now. The next segment will conclude the Berne confrontation at long last, finally letting the poor, poor Foreman get some much needed rest. By way of induced coma.
Once again, thanks for reading! Reviews and criticisms are welcome as always! The likebombs! How am I supposed to react to all this likebombing?! HEEEEEEELP!!!
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"Come at me, BRO!"
CrabMonarchy
Allegedly Dutch
- Location
- the Netherlands, apparently
"1v1 me bro"
"...maybe I should've thought this through more."
"...maybe I should've thought this through more."
*"You are already dead" Ravager*
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Update in the works, just a minor gripe of mine.
One of the toughest challenges of writing an SI that doesn't have overwhelming firepower is depicting strategic-level battles convincingly without any LOLBOLOSTOMP available, which means pitched battles really suck. Both story-wise, and OOC-wise.
Remember kids, hyper-efficient industry is useless if there's nothing left to mine.
Next time on Traveler: Where Did All the Tiberium Go?
One of the toughest challenges of writing an SI that doesn't have overwhelming firepower is depicting strategic-level battles convincingly without any LOLBOLOSTOMP available, which means pitched battles really suck. Both story-wise, and OOC-wise.
Remember kids, hyper-efficient industry is useless if there's nothing left to mine.
Next time on Traveler: Where Did All the Tiberium Go?
- Location
- That light in the sky with a decaying orbit.
This is gonna be good.
12. Berne Bug-Bash - Hexapod Rising
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
[I'm sorry, but it appears your requisitions account possesses insufficient Credits for that purchase.]
[I get it, I get it. Please, can I have this on loan or something? I really need those Tripods!]
[What is this thing you call a "loan"? Is it a consumable? Oh, another customer. Please excuse me.]
[Wait, no! Don't ha-]
[*Thank you for choosing the Cult of the Artisan. Quality industrial equipment delivered right to your Threshold.*]
[-ng up. Dammit!]
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Oh crap, bad light, bad light-Ow!
[Starboard hull significantly damaged, readjusting thruster output to maintain current angular velocity. Reassigning Construction Drones to repair damaged areas in five seconds.]
Thanks again, Voice. This is one nasty customer.
In the midst of all the chaos of two lines of Scrin tanks beating the crap out of each other, my AutoShip was lazily orbiting the landlocked Eradicator Hexapod, making very sure to stay far away from those nasty foreleg-mounted Plasma and dousing the Hexapod with lasers from every Spitfire Turret that could gimbal far enough to aim at it. Within my shadow, the Construction Drones attached to my ride diligently patched up the battle damage my thickened hull was rapidly incurring. With the slow spin I was maintaining spreading the Eradicator's return fire all across my hull, I was set for the long haul.
Still hurt like crap though, I'm feeling phantom bruising all over my "body" already.
A multitude of bass hammer-thumps rang out and another salvo of burning meteors sailed in from the distance, my sensors guiding them to strike at the Devourer lines. GDI had been so kind to loan me a trio of Juggernaut walkers and a couple of Orca overflights to thin out the herds of Reaper vehicles out, the software on my AutoShip more than enough to give them firing solutions even in the middle of battle and allowing them to bombard the tank clusters from afar. With most of Reaper's anti-air units busy pelting my fat behind and the urban shootouts mostly contained, the troopers were reasonably safe from harm. Scrin corpses and burning Devourers were literally clogging the streets though, but ehh.
Better me (Agent Smith style) than them. We're easily replaceable after all.
Right on cue, one of my dwindling gaggle of Annihilator Tripods cooked off in a Gundam-style explosion.
…crap. I take back what I said about expendability.
With me floating at the forefront and GDI's artillery at the rear, we were able to keep up the attrition war even with my utterly depleted forces. My personal AutoShip was lighting up the entire battlefield every so often like a demented Christmas Tree with curtains of angry red beams and tanking fire for the brown-yellow vehicles blasting away behind out lines, but my legions of tanks were slowly and surely being whittled away. More and more Reapers were slipping in through the cracks and biting away at the softer Seekers and Gun Walkers suppressing the enemy Stormriders overhead, in turn putting the Orca squadrons at risk.
Back at Southern Base, Cultist crews and Construction Drones were tearing down the Nod structures I'd built earlier and throwing the pieces into our Refinery vats for that extra gobbet of Ichor. The Ichor Fields themselves lay barren, the surviving neon-green crystals too deeply nested within the earth for our Harvesters to dig out. Two of the Devastators were powered down in a deserted park a couple of miles off to save on precious fuel-grade Ichor, the scarab-shaped warships having beamed their reserves to the rest of the fleet. Said fleet was steadily dropping altitude to ease pressure off of their fuel-starved gravity drives in a desperate bid to stay afloat, the Storm Emitter on the PACs having long gone silent to feed the ravenous Invader squadrons and Plasma Batteries.
If either of them went offline, Reaper-17's rapidly growing wave of armored forces would crush my battered tanks in short order, leaving them with ninety-odd laser cannons with nothing to do and a big honking target above their heads. Airborne or no, I did NOT fancy my chances of surviving a beamspam of that magnitude.
…wait a minute.
If Reaper's spamming tanks at me and going all WW2 America, who's manning the city areas…?
Ohohoho, I can use this.
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*SPLORTCH*
A badly-scuffed Ravager hissed as it slowly extracted its armored mandible from the head of a dead Shock Trooper, the blade-like appendage having pierced the larger alien right through the "eye" and silencing it without setting off its onboard plasma reactor. A number of its brethren had found out the hard way when their kills abruptly overloaded and exploded in their faces, the surviving Ravagers had made it a point not to stab the car-sized pillbugs willy-nilly ever since.
Glancing wordlessly to each other, the Ravager squad scuttled through the abandoned apartment floor and headed out on the street, leaping out of the long-absent windows and landing with muffled clanks. Their organic software synchronising with each other as the aliens regrouped, the Ravagers were about to continue cleanup operations when their optics flashed as one.
New orders. Foreman commands them to redeploy immediately.
Bursting into motion, the Ravagers speedily dashed to the nearest manholes on the street. Drilling open the thick covers with repeated strikes from their mandibles, the close-combat bioroids slipped into the sewer's depths in a neat single file, reflected sunlight briefly reflecting off their metallic carapaces before the Ravagers plunged into the darkness.
Soon, the street was deserted as if they were never there. A small, Ichor-crusted can rolled across the street, its clatter audible in the silence.
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Eeeep! Leftleftleft-wait, no! Feint! RightrightRiAAAH!
*GOOOOOOONG*
[Frontal hull critically damaged. Temporary withdrawal recommended.]
Ohh woooww… m'pretty starrs…
[…concussion damage detected in Experimental Processor Core. Administering stimulants.]
GYAAA! MY BRAIN'S ON FIRE!
[Experimental Processor Core functionality restored.]
…ugh, my head. Thanks Voice, and bleep you very much by the way.
[Error: "Bleep" is not a recognised word.]
Ha ha ha, very funny. Sheesh, first thing a VI learns is how to be witty.
I'd strayed too close to the Hexapod and got socked in the "face" by a bus-sized foreleg after the Epic Unit suddenly lunged into the air at my little AutoShip, junking its armor and giving me a one heck concussion. Guiding my busted ride to the rear lines for an emergency repair job, I had it plant itself in the middle of the little "border fort" formed by the sheer amount of turrets my sub-Platforms've been churning out. The turrets drew power straight off the main power networks, they'd continue trucking on even if we ever run completely out of Ichor.
Not much of a trump card if things go on like this. Unit rosters, unit rosters, show me something good…
Ah, my special projects, I've completely forgotten about them. Oops!
Now, time to get them into posit-
[Warning: Enemy Eradicator Hexapod is advancing upon our forward base, insufficient combat units available to maintain blockade. Base attack imminent.]
Like a certain talking jug of punch, the Eradicator Hexapod hit my lines with the force of a freight train, its titanic legs treading on Devourers and Annihilators like a naughty child stabbing ants with a toothpick. Massive salvoes from its main Plasma Battery arced over the tank lines and pulverised my anti-air units, the twin Disintegrator Turrets mounted on its forelegs slicing apart anything the Hexapod's legs missed into very tiny pieces. Without a certain pesky AutoShip to catch its attention, the walker strode amongst the swarms of lesser vehicles like a Greek Titan of old, its countless attendants pouring into the gap the Hexapod's wake created and tearing into the disorganised tanks.
[GIVE ME YOUR FACE!] Reaper's voice roared in the harsh tones of native Scrin. [It shall be a fine TROPHY of such an IRRITATING OPPONENT!]
Ah crap, out of time! Firefirefire!
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In the far distance, a pair of odd-looking Mechapedes lay hull-down atop an abandoned multi-storey carpark. The two biotanks had been waiting there for a good while ever since the battle raging off in the distance began, a thin coat of dust and ash had begun to cover the inactive Scrin vehicles.
Suddenly, a frantic series of signals came flooding over the command network. A target was assigned, high priority assigned to targeting of certain areas of it. The Mechapedes lurched in unison to their spindly centipede legs, Tron-esque lines appearing across their segmented bodies as power was rerouted through their systems. Scuttling left and right to correct their bearings, a noticeable "ridge" on their spines emitted a droning hum as it lit up segment by segment, terminating in a nib-like protrusion above the Mechapedes' heads.
Muzzle alignment set. Firing cycle initiated.
Beginning from the rear, each individual Mechapede segment redlined its internal generators and flooded the tube-shaped Beam Cannons attached to their tops, the linked cylindrical weapons synchronising their beam wavelengths to a single pattern. The rearmost Beam Canon, the only one with an actual base, sparked with electricity and spat forth a thin stream of ruby-red energy, the filament-thin ray amplifying in intensity as it passed into the energy fields within the bore of the next Beam Emitter. Repeating the process from segment to segment, what finally reached the muzzle of the compound cannon assembly was a hellish torrent of burning energy barely restrained within the barrel's confines.
Twitching their heads for a couple of last-minute corrections, the Mechapedes finally let loose. Nib-like muzzles flared, and six white-hot lines cut through the hazy sky.
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…and slammed right into the Eradicator Hexapod's faceplate, carving deep furrows in the monstrous war machine's armor. The titanic walker roared in pain and stumbled, its charge losing momentum as it ground to a standstill.
Woo-hoo! Nice shot!
My new Yashima-type Mechapedes were proving their money's worth amazingly. Sacrificing their design's vaunted modularity for sheer firepower, each segment of the Yashimas was a Foundry-crafted Beam Cannon knockoff with components filched from the Brotherhood's tech buildings. Significantly slower and requiring a heck of a techbase to build (BOTH an Operations Center and a Technology Assembler were needed), the Yashimas were built all-at-once and cost about 3400 credits EACH. Slow, fragile and very expensive, these things were not meant to be spammed.
But when you get them in a comfy position, boy do they really shine.
A little known fact of Nod's Beam Cannon is that when reflecting shots off a Venom Patrol Craft, the individual beams would merge. By gutting the Beam Cannon's design for the core Beam Emitters and linking them to the Mechapede's modular control software, the end product was the firepower of eight of the little buggers combined into a single ultra-range laser, each segment's Beam Emitter synchronised to the rest of the chain by the Mechapede's processors that were purpose-built to handle multiple weapon systems working in tandem.
In short? Beam Sniping across the horizon.
The Hexapod staggered back as three more supercharged energy streams smashed into its hull, scoring lines upward across its front and carving off one of its signature "horns". One of the Yashima's beams lanced out and struck one of its middle legs, shattering the armor with an audible *crack* and snapping the entire limb off. The remaining two, slightly delayed by issues with their firing cycles, swept their fire across the advancing Reaper Tripods, scything down scores of lesser walkers with an impromptu laser haircut.
With just six Yashimas, the Reaper advance had stalled.
I LOVE these guys.
Oh, hey. The GDI forces have finally reached the stronghold.
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Three GDI Juggernaut Walkers and a squadron of Orca Gunships fought alongside their temporary Scrin allies, delivering punishing fire from above to bolster the flagging alien troops.
The rest of GDI's army were massing outside the Reaper-17 stronghold, staying just outside the Stormwall's range. With every single alien tank busy fighting Traveler's forces off in the distance, the stronghold was utterly deserted save for the ever-watchful defensive emplacements.
Sadly, defensive emplacements couldn't move.
A line of Juggernauts formed outside the stronghold's perimeter, the artillery walkers safe in the knowledge that all the hostile aliens were currently tied up in the humongous streetfight down the road. Leaning back on their heels, the Juggernauts tipped backwards as far as their pilots dared as they raised their 200mm cannons as far as their elevation could go.
On an unseen signal, a rippling boom filled the air as all of the Juggernauts fired at once.
A literal rain of burning meteors slammed into the wall of clustered Storm Columns, the high-yield munitions slicing right through the ion-saturated clouds and crashing into the spindly fishbone towers. Concussive shockwaves rippled through the Storm Columns as the explosives all but decapitated their unlucky kindred, the skinny alien structures shattering into tiny pieces under Uncle Sam's industrial wrath. Broken Storm Columns quickly began filling the area as the towers failed under constant bombardment, the Columns toppling over like cut trees. Soon, a gap in the Stormwall appeared as the artificial Ion Storms dissipated.
"ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US, GODDAMN AYYS!" a Juggernaut pilot hooted from his lofty cockpit atop the 75-foot-tall mech, as the rest of the GDI strike force sallied forth beside its massive feet.
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The Eradicator Hexapod did a literal double-take as Reaper-17 realised he'd been caught between a rock and a hard place.
As expected, a large portion of Reaper's forces promptly did a 180-degree about-face and skedaddled back up the road to reinforce their base, leaving a tiny rearguard to hold us off. The Hexapod looked between my AutoShip and the brewing siege in the distance, before grunting and turning towards the base. Looks like saving his own bacon takes precedence over kicking mine.
[ARGH! This isn't over, Traveler!] The Reaper-17 Foreman's embarrassingly halfhearted bluster sounded over comms.
For that, I wholeheartedly agree. It's not over yet!
With a series of sharp pings, several manhole covers launched into the air as the sewer entrances below the retreating wave of Devourers and Reaper Tripods exploded with infantry. Masses of Ravagers and Disintegrators catapulted out of the holes like xenomorphs straight out of Aliens, latching on to the undersides of the heavy hovertanks and letting loose with their deadly tools. A Devourer Tank imploded as a Disintegrator disembowelled it from below, the dying tank sliding to a halt as its innards tumbled out over its meter-long slide.
"HOKUTO! HYAKURETSU KEN!!"
The ponderous Reaper Tripods, their bodies stuffed to the gills with Ichor, popped like firecrackers under the relentless assault as nimbler Ravagers powered on their Ichor Agitators and, um, well, "ravaged" them.
God, that sounds wrong.
AS I WAS SAYING, the little buggoriods were having the time of their lives chewing into the crowd of anorexic lasertrees like locusts at a buffet. My optics even spotted a bunch of them pulling off Bruce Lee shenanigans and leaping from Tripod to Tripod, zapping each walker with a healthy dose of Agitation before springboarding off in moves straight out of a gongfu movie.
Did I mention the Shock Troopers blinking from place to place, finishing off the stragglers?
These guys were screwed.
The Eradicator Hexapod bellowed, shaking its legs in a desperate attempt to dislodge the infantry 'bots swarming up its legs. Its remaining Turrets did their level best to defend their host, flinging streams of plasma and vaporising a few unlucky bots, before being overwhelmed and carved right out of their sockets by packs of Disintegrators. With its army crippled and in danger of being overwhelmed, the Hexapod was now charging across the battlefield, squishing everything in its path be it friend or foe.
I don't think I have the heart to tell him that he's doing more damage to his own units than mine. Doesn't matter anyway, he's not leaving this place!
TOOOOOOOOOH!
*KER-CRUUUUNCH*
Pushing my engines to full, my repaired AutoShip rocketed over the struggling Scrin armies and slammed into the retreating bug. The sheer force of the impact bowled the Eradicator Hexapod forward, mashing its face into the asphalt in a beautiful faceplant that shook the earth. As the dust settled, it appeared that the Hexapod's sheer mass smashing it right through the battered highway and leaving it halfway jammed in a giant hole in the ground, its legs waving feebly in the air.
The Drone Ship Headbutt strikes again! Just ask any Mothership that's ever been on the wrong end of an angry D-Ship for how devastating that is!
Right, time to start downing the thing in Assimilators then-
[YOU LITTLE SHIT!] Reaper-17's voice suddenly roared over the airwaves. [TAKE THE DAMN ERADICATOR AND CHOKE ON IT!]
Wait, wha-
[Warning: Enemy Rift Generator deployed.]
OH BASKET. Quick, grab onto something quickly! Firing my "docking" gravity fields, my AutoShip desperately latched onto the nearest solid surface as oodles of units, both mine and Reaper's, spiralled into the bloody spacetime breach that ass just popped over my head!
..oh dear. The Hexapod's rising.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-
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With an eardrum-blasting screech of scraping metal, an Eradicator Hexapod lifted into the air and was pulled into the Rift, dragging the attached Drone Platform along for the ride.
With a gurgle and a tiny plip, the Rift shrunk and vanished.
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A hole in reality appeared with a little flash, spitting out a couple of objects before vanishing again. As the inactive Eradicator Hexapod slowly began to fall back to Earth (protip: a very long fall), an Autonomous Drone Platform anchored to the alien's carapace had but a single thought.
[Oh, poo.]
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Author's Note: WEEEEE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIEEEEEEND-
*slap*
Okay, okay, I'm back. Whew.
LA LA LALA LA LA
This took me a looong time to write, action scenes (actually everything, now that I think about it) were never really my strong suit. It's done though, and I'm.... not so satisfied with it.
SING A HAPPY SONG
DAMMIT FIREFOX, STOP CRASHING
LA LA LALA LA LA
Aaas I was saying, this is pretty much it for the Berne campaign. With no units and a sieged base, Reaper-17's pretty much done for, so I'm planning on timeskipping Reaper's death throes and the AutoShip's painful reentry. Muse's drained, you see.
SMURF YOUR WHOLE DAY LONG
Next up will probably be the AAR, Reaper cleanup and (finally!) formal negotiations between Traveler-59 and GDI, so expect some politicking and everyone's favorite politico, Mister Redman Ball.
LA LA LALA LA LA
WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT CRASHING
IÄ CTHULHU FHTAGN
[I get it, I get it. Please, can I have this on loan or something? I really need those Tripods!]
[What is this thing you call a "loan"? Is it a consumable? Oh, another customer. Please excuse me.]
[Wait, no! Don't ha-]
[*Thank you for choosing the Cult of the Artisan. Quality industrial equipment delivered right to your Threshold.*]
[-ng up. Dammit!]
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Oh crap, bad light, bad light-Ow!
[Starboard hull significantly damaged, readjusting thruster output to maintain current angular velocity. Reassigning Construction Drones to repair damaged areas in five seconds.]
Thanks again, Voice. This is one nasty customer.
In the midst of all the chaos of two lines of Scrin tanks beating the crap out of each other, my AutoShip was lazily orbiting the landlocked Eradicator Hexapod, making very sure to stay far away from those nasty foreleg-mounted Plasma and dousing the Hexapod with lasers from every Spitfire Turret that could gimbal far enough to aim at it. Within my shadow, the Construction Drones attached to my ride diligently patched up the battle damage my thickened hull was rapidly incurring. With the slow spin I was maintaining spreading the Eradicator's return fire all across my hull, I was set for the long haul.
Still hurt like crap though, I'm feeling phantom bruising all over my "body" already.
A multitude of bass hammer-thumps rang out and another salvo of burning meteors sailed in from the distance, my sensors guiding them to strike at the Devourer lines. GDI had been so kind to loan me a trio of Juggernaut walkers and a couple of Orca overflights to thin out the herds of Reaper vehicles out, the software on my AutoShip more than enough to give them firing solutions even in the middle of battle and allowing them to bombard the tank clusters from afar. With most of Reaper's anti-air units busy pelting my fat behind and the urban shootouts mostly contained, the troopers were reasonably safe from harm. Scrin corpses and burning Devourers were literally clogging the streets though, but ehh.
Better me (Agent Smith style) than them. We're easily replaceable after all.
Right on cue, one of my dwindling gaggle of Annihilator Tripods cooked off in a Gundam-style explosion.
…crap. I take back what I said about expendability.
With me floating at the forefront and GDI's artillery at the rear, we were able to keep up the attrition war even with my utterly depleted forces. My personal AutoShip was lighting up the entire battlefield every so often like a demented Christmas Tree with curtains of angry red beams and tanking fire for the brown-yellow vehicles blasting away behind out lines, but my legions of tanks were slowly and surely being whittled away. More and more Reapers were slipping in through the cracks and biting away at the softer Seekers and Gun Walkers suppressing the enemy Stormriders overhead, in turn putting the Orca squadrons at risk.
Back at Southern Base, Cultist crews and Construction Drones were tearing down the Nod structures I'd built earlier and throwing the pieces into our Refinery vats for that extra gobbet of Ichor. The Ichor Fields themselves lay barren, the surviving neon-green crystals too deeply nested within the earth for our Harvesters to dig out. Two of the Devastators were powered down in a deserted park a couple of miles off to save on precious fuel-grade Ichor, the scarab-shaped warships having beamed their reserves to the rest of the fleet. Said fleet was steadily dropping altitude to ease pressure off of their fuel-starved gravity drives in a desperate bid to stay afloat, the Storm Emitter on the PACs having long gone silent to feed the ravenous Invader squadrons and Plasma Batteries.
If either of them went offline, Reaper-17's rapidly growing wave of armored forces would crush my battered tanks in short order, leaving them with ninety-odd laser cannons with nothing to do and a big honking target above their heads. Airborne or no, I did NOT fancy my chances of surviving a beamspam of that magnitude.
…wait a minute.
If Reaper's spamming tanks at me and going all WW2 America, who's manning the city areas…?
Ohohoho, I can use this.
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*SPLORTCH*
A badly-scuffed Ravager hissed as it slowly extracted its armored mandible from the head of a dead Shock Trooper, the blade-like appendage having pierced the larger alien right through the "eye" and silencing it without setting off its onboard plasma reactor. A number of its brethren had found out the hard way when their kills abruptly overloaded and exploded in their faces, the surviving Ravagers had made it a point not to stab the car-sized pillbugs willy-nilly ever since.
Glancing wordlessly to each other, the Ravager squad scuttled through the abandoned apartment floor and headed out on the street, leaping out of the long-absent windows and landing with muffled clanks. Their organic software synchronising with each other as the aliens regrouped, the Ravagers were about to continue cleanup operations when their optics flashed as one.
New orders. Foreman commands them to redeploy immediately.
Bursting into motion, the Ravagers speedily dashed to the nearest manholes on the street. Drilling open the thick covers with repeated strikes from their mandibles, the close-combat bioroids slipped into the sewer's depths in a neat single file, reflected sunlight briefly reflecting off their metallic carapaces before the Ravagers plunged into the darkness.
Soon, the street was deserted as if they were never there. A small, Ichor-crusted can rolled across the street, its clatter audible in the silence.
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Eeeep! Leftleftleft-wait, no! Feint! RightrightRiAAAH!
*GOOOOOOONG*
[Frontal hull critically damaged. Temporary withdrawal recommended.]
Ohh woooww… m'pretty starrs…
[…concussion damage detected in Experimental Processor Core. Administering stimulants.]
GYAAA! MY BRAIN'S ON FIRE!
[Experimental Processor Core functionality restored.]
…ugh, my head. Thanks Voice, and bleep you very much by the way.
[Error: "Bleep" is not a recognised word.]
Ha ha ha, very funny. Sheesh, first thing a VI learns is how to be witty.
I'd strayed too close to the Hexapod and got socked in the "face" by a bus-sized foreleg after the Epic Unit suddenly lunged into the air at my little AutoShip, junking its armor and giving me a one heck concussion. Guiding my busted ride to the rear lines for an emergency repair job, I had it plant itself in the middle of the little "border fort" formed by the sheer amount of turrets my sub-Platforms've been churning out. The turrets drew power straight off the main power networks, they'd continue trucking on even if we ever run completely out of Ichor.
Not much of a trump card if things go on like this. Unit rosters, unit rosters, show me something good…
Ah, my special projects, I've completely forgotten about them. Oops!
Now, time to get them into posit-
[Warning: Enemy Eradicator Hexapod is advancing upon our forward base, insufficient combat units available to maintain blockade. Base attack imminent.]
Like a certain talking jug of punch, the Eradicator Hexapod hit my lines with the force of a freight train, its titanic legs treading on Devourers and Annihilators like a naughty child stabbing ants with a toothpick. Massive salvoes from its main Plasma Battery arced over the tank lines and pulverised my anti-air units, the twin Disintegrator Turrets mounted on its forelegs slicing apart anything the Hexapod's legs missed into very tiny pieces. Without a certain pesky AutoShip to catch its attention, the walker strode amongst the swarms of lesser vehicles like a Greek Titan of old, its countless attendants pouring into the gap the Hexapod's wake created and tearing into the disorganised tanks.
[GIVE ME YOUR FACE!] Reaper's voice roared in the harsh tones of native Scrin. [It shall be a fine TROPHY of such an IRRITATING OPPONENT!]
Ah crap, out of time! Firefirefire!
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In the far distance, a pair of odd-looking Mechapedes lay hull-down atop an abandoned multi-storey carpark. The two biotanks had been waiting there for a good while ever since the battle raging off in the distance began, a thin coat of dust and ash had begun to cover the inactive Scrin vehicles.
Suddenly, a frantic series of signals came flooding over the command network. A target was assigned, high priority assigned to targeting of certain areas of it. The Mechapedes lurched in unison to their spindly centipede legs, Tron-esque lines appearing across their segmented bodies as power was rerouted through their systems. Scuttling left and right to correct their bearings, a noticeable "ridge" on their spines emitted a droning hum as it lit up segment by segment, terminating in a nib-like protrusion above the Mechapedes' heads.
Muzzle alignment set. Firing cycle initiated.
Beginning from the rear, each individual Mechapede segment redlined its internal generators and flooded the tube-shaped Beam Cannons attached to their tops, the linked cylindrical weapons synchronising their beam wavelengths to a single pattern. The rearmost Beam Canon, the only one with an actual base, sparked with electricity and spat forth a thin stream of ruby-red energy, the filament-thin ray amplifying in intensity as it passed into the energy fields within the bore of the next Beam Emitter. Repeating the process from segment to segment, what finally reached the muzzle of the compound cannon assembly was a hellish torrent of burning energy barely restrained within the barrel's confines.
Twitching their heads for a couple of last-minute corrections, the Mechapedes finally let loose. Nib-like muzzles flared, and six white-hot lines cut through the hazy sky.
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…and slammed right into the Eradicator Hexapod's faceplate, carving deep furrows in the monstrous war machine's armor. The titanic walker roared in pain and stumbled, its charge losing momentum as it ground to a standstill.
Woo-hoo! Nice shot!
My new Yashima-type Mechapedes were proving their money's worth amazingly. Sacrificing their design's vaunted modularity for sheer firepower, each segment of the Yashimas was a Foundry-crafted Beam Cannon knockoff with components filched from the Brotherhood's tech buildings. Significantly slower and requiring a heck of a techbase to build (BOTH an Operations Center and a Technology Assembler were needed), the Yashimas were built all-at-once and cost about 3400 credits EACH. Slow, fragile and very expensive, these things were not meant to be spammed.
But when you get them in a comfy position, boy do they really shine.
A little known fact of Nod's Beam Cannon is that when reflecting shots off a Venom Patrol Craft, the individual beams would merge. By gutting the Beam Cannon's design for the core Beam Emitters and linking them to the Mechapede's modular control software, the end product was the firepower of eight of the little buggers combined into a single ultra-range laser, each segment's Beam Emitter synchronised to the rest of the chain by the Mechapede's processors that were purpose-built to handle multiple weapon systems working in tandem.
In short? Beam Sniping across the horizon.
The Hexapod staggered back as three more supercharged energy streams smashed into its hull, scoring lines upward across its front and carving off one of its signature "horns". One of the Yashima's beams lanced out and struck one of its middle legs, shattering the armor with an audible *crack* and snapping the entire limb off. The remaining two, slightly delayed by issues with their firing cycles, swept their fire across the advancing Reaper Tripods, scything down scores of lesser walkers with an impromptu laser haircut.
With just six Yashimas, the Reaper advance had stalled.
I LOVE these guys.
Oh, hey. The GDI forces have finally reached the stronghold.
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Three GDI Juggernaut Walkers and a squadron of Orca Gunships fought alongside their temporary Scrin allies, delivering punishing fire from above to bolster the flagging alien troops.
The rest of GDI's army were massing outside the Reaper-17 stronghold, staying just outside the Stormwall's range. With every single alien tank busy fighting Traveler's forces off in the distance, the stronghold was utterly deserted save for the ever-watchful defensive emplacements.
Sadly, defensive emplacements couldn't move.
A line of Juggernauts formed outside the stronghold's perimeter, the artillery walkers safe in the knowledge that all the hostile aliens were currently tied up in the humongous streetfight down the road. Leaning back on their heels, the Juggernauts tipped backwards as far as their pilots dared as they raised their 200mm cannons as far as their elevation could go.
On an unseen signal, a rippling boom filled the air as all of the Juggernauts fired at once.
A literal rain of burning meteors slammed into the wall of clustered Storm Columns, the high-yield munitions slicing right through the ion-saturated clouds and crashing into the spindly fishbone towers. Concussive shockwaves rippled through the Storm Columns as the explosives all but decapitated their unlucky kindred, the skinny alien structures shattering into tiny pieces under Uncle Sam's industrial wrath. Broken Storm Columns quickly began filling the area as the towers failed under constant bombardment, the Columns toppling over like cut trees. Soon, a gap in the Stormwall appeared as the artificial Ion Storms dissipated.
"ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US, GODDAMN AYYS!" a Juggernaut pilot hooted from his lofty cockpit atop the 75-foot-tall mech, as the rest of the GDI strike force sallied forth beside its massive feet.
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The Eradicator Hexapod did a literal double-take as Reaper-17 realised he'd been caught between a rock and a hard place.
As expected, a large portion of Reaper's forces promptly did a 180-degree about-face and skedaddled back up the road to reinforce their base, leaving a tiny rearguard to hold us off. The Hexapod looked between my AutoShip and the brewing siege in the distance, before grunting and turning towards the base. Looks like saving his own bacon takes precedence over kicking mine.
[ARGH! This isn't over, Traveler!] The Reaper-17 Foreman's embarrassingly halfhearted bluster sounded over comms.
For that, I wholeheartedly agree. It's not over yet!
With a series of sharp pings, several manhole covers launched into the air as the sewer entrances below the retreating wave of Devourers and Reaper Tripods exploded with infantry. Masses of Ravagers and Disintegrators catapulted out of the holes like xenomorphs straight out of Aliens, latching on to the undersides of the heavy hovertanks and letting loose with their deadly tools. A Devourer Tank imploded as a Disintegrator disembowelled it from below, the dying tank sliding to a halt as its innards tumbled out over its meter-long slide.
"HOKUTO! HYAKURETSU KEN!!"
The ponderous Reaper Tripods, their bodies stuffed to the gills with Ichor, popped like firecrackers under the relentless assault as nimbler Ravagers powered on their Ichor Agitators and, um, well, "ravaged" them.
God, that sounds wrong.
AS I WAS SAYING, the little buggoriods were having the time of their lives chewing into the crowd of anorexic lasertrees like locusts at a buffet. My optics even spotted a bunch of them pulling off Bruce Lee shenanigans and leaping from Tripod to Tripod, zapping each walker with a healthy dose of Agitation before springboarding off in moves straight out of a gongfu movie.
Did I mention the Shock Troopers blinking from place to place, finishing off the stragglers?
These guys were screwed.
The Eradicator Hexapod bellowed, shaking its legs in a desperate attempt to dislodge the infantry 'bots swarming up its legs. Its remaining Turrets did their level best to defend their host, flinging streams of plasma and vaporising a few unlucky bots, before being overwhelmed and carved right out of their sockets by packs of Disintegrators. With its army crippled and in danger of being overwhelmed, the Hexapod was now charging across the battlefield, squishing everything in its path be it friend or foe.
I don't think I have the heart to tell him that he's doing more damage to his own units than mine. Doesn't matter anyway, he's not leaving this place!
TOOOOOOOOOH!
*KER-CRUUUUNCH*
Pushing my engines to full, my repaired AutoShip rocketed over the struggling Scrin armies and slammed into the retreating bug. The sheer force of the impact bowled the Eradicator Hexapod forward, mashing its face into the asphalt in a beautiful faceplant that shook the earth. As the dust settled, it appeared that the Hexapod's sheer mass smashing it right through the battered highway and leaving it halfway jammed in a giant hole in the ground, its legs waving feebly in the air.
The Drone Ship Headbutt strikes again! Just ask any Mothership that's ever been on the wrong end of an angry D-Ship for how devastating that is!
Right, time to start downing the thing in Assimilators then-
[YOU LITTLE SHIT!] Reaper-17's voice suddenly roared over the airwaves. [TAKE THE DAMN ERADICATOR AND CHOKE ON IT!]
Wait, wha-
[Warning: Enemy Rift Generator deployed.]
OH BASKET. Quick, grab onto something quickly! Firing my "docking" gravity fields, my AutoShip desperately latched onto the nearest solid surface as oodles of units, both mine and Reaper's, spiralled into the bloody spacetime breach that ass just popped over my head!
..oh dear. The Hexapod's rising.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH-
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With an eardrum-blasting screech of scraping metal, an Eradicator Hexapod lifted into the air and was pulled into the Rift, dragging the attached Drone Platform along for the ride.
With a gurgle and a tiny plip, the Rift shrunk and vanished.
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Somewhere in the exosphere region, geometrically above Berne…
A hole in reality appeared with a little flash, spitting out a couple of objects before vanishing again. As the inactive Eradicator Hexapod slowly began to fall back to Earth (protip: a very long fall), an Autonomous Drone Platform anchored to the alien's carapace had but a single thought.
[Oh, poo.]
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Author's Note: WEEEEE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIEEEEEEND-
*slap*
Okay, okay, I'm back. Whew.
LA LA LALA LA LA
This took me a looong time to write, action scenes (actually everything, now that I think about it) were never really my strong suit. It's done though, and I'm.... not so satisfied with it.
SING A HAPPY SONG
DAMMIT FIREFOX, STOP CRASHING
LA LA LALA LA LA
Aaas I was saying, this is pretty much it for the Berne campaign. With no units and a sieged base, Reaper-17's pretty much done for, so I'm planning on timeskipping Reaper's death throes and the AutoShip's painful reentry. Muse's drained, you see.
SMURF YOUR WHOLE DAY LONG
Next up will probably be the AAR, Reaper cleanup and (finally!) formal negotiations between Traveler-59 and GDI, so expect some politicking and everyone's favorite politico, Mister Redman Ball.
LA LA LALA LA LA
WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT CRASHING
IÄ CTHULHU FHTAGN
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Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Yes, I am surprisingly a subscriber of "Gosh Dang It To Heck" swearing IRL. "Fish" and "Basket" are actual curses we use at home, mostly in a playful manner. I still drop F-bombs from time to time though, mooostly when I stub my toe on something.
eeeee so many viewers!
What? It really hurts!
invistextinvistextinviiiiiiistext
eeeee so many viewers!
What? It really hurts!
invistextinvistextinviiiiiiistext
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The thing with any fight, be it personal or strategetic, is that they really are over very quickly. The only times it isn't is when the two sides are sufficiently close in skill, one or both sides have trumps (wormhole, etc.), or one side's sandbagging.
Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
Weeeeeeell, technically Reaper and Traveler are equal barring a few racial differences.
CHTULHU FHTAGN CHTULHU FHTAGN
Still bugs me how draggy that got, I really need to fix my writing skills. Thanks for the advice though!
CHTULHU FHTAGN CHTULHU FHTAGN
FIREFOX DAMMIT
FIREFOX FHTAGN FIREFOX FHTAGN
CHTULHU FHTAGN CHTULHU FHTAGN
Still bugs me how draggy that got, I really need to fix my writing skills. Thanks for the advice though!
CHTULHU FHTAGN CHTULHU FHTAGN
FIREFOX DAMMIT
FIREFOX FHTAGN FIREFOX FHTAGN
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Librarian
SAN Loss Isn't Fun Anymore...
You know, with all the descendant AIs in all the PASI fics, I wonder if any of them are planning a Mother's Day special or something?
i'm invisible!
Would be pretty cute to see.
waldo is here
EDIT: Whoops, doubleposted. Sorry 'bout that.
MUAHAHAHAHAHA
i'm invisible!
Would be pretty cute to see.
waldo is here
EDIT: Whoops, doubleposted. Sorry 'bout that.
MUAHAHAHAHAHA
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ltmauve
"Excuse me?"
- Location
- Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
His ship and the hexapod came out in the exosphere, which is... *checks* 500-10,000km above the surface. Yeah. Fun times.
Pretty sure it got sucked up and now he has to deal with the massive fall back to Earth from that altitude. And goddamnit, I've been ninja'd.
ShineUCrazyStar
Grossly Incandescent
- Location
- Being the Sun
Well, when life gives you impromptu KKVs... You must surf the hexapod down onto Reaper's base, do eeet!
♪Cue jazzy Scrin hold music.♪
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vyor
KITTY! \o/
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