⫸ [ TIME: +56 DAYS SINCE THE SKY WAR ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ]
⫸ [ STATUS: INTERCEPT VECTOR ]
The moon of Aethelgard was a cratered wasteland of grey dust.
The U.E.C. Nemesis hugged the surface. It flew inverted, its belly scraping the jagged peaks of the lunar mountains.
Elian stood on the bridge. The lights were red. The hum of the ship was suppressed.
"Three minutes to horizon," Alara reported from the helm. Her hands danced over the controls, adjusting the micro-thrusters to keep them in the moon's radar shadow.
"Target cluster?" Elian asked.
Disciple Lin checked the passive sensors.
"The Federation fleet is holding formation at the L1 Lagrange Point. Eleven ships. They are scanning the planet, watching the Liberator."
"They are looking down," Elian said. "So we hit them from the side."
He opened the comms channel to the external pods.
"Grom. Status."
"DARK," Grom's voice rumbled back. "COLD. CRAMPED. I AM READY."
"Remember the physics," Elian said. "We are releasing you at Mach 15 relative to the target. The retro-rockets will fire automatically at 500 meters. If you trigger them early, you stop too soon and the Point-Defense lasers cut you in half. If you trigger them late, you splatter against the hull."
"I TRUST THE MACHINE," Grom said. "AND I TRUST THE LORD OF IRON."
"Alara," Elian commanded. "Come about. Attack vector."
The Nemesis crested the horizon of the moon.
Suddenly, the suns blinded them.
Ahead, floating against the backdrop of stars, lay the Federation blockade. Eleven sleek grey daggers hanging in the void.
"Targeting the flank vessel," Elian ordered. "F.S.S. Vigilant. Calculating solution."
II. NARRATIVE OBJECTIVES
The Approach: The tension of the stealth run behind the moon.
The Launch: The terrifying physics of being shot out of a cannon in a metal coffin.
The Impact: Grom's POV. Breaching the hull. The transition from vacuum silence to atmospheric violence.
The Massacre: Demonstrating the dominance of the Titan-Giants against standard marines.
The Result: Capturing the first vessel of the blockade.
System Status: All Green.
Ready to Execute.
Chapter 40: The Iron Rain
⫸ [ TIME: +56 DAYS SINCE THE SKY WAR ]
⫸ [ LOCATION: THE DARK SIDE OF THE MOON ]
⫸ [ STATUS: INTERCEPT VECTOR ]
The moon of Aethelgard was a cratered wasteland of grey dust.
The U.E.C. Nemesis hugged the surface. It flew inverted, its belly scraping the jagged peaks of the lunar mountains.
Elian stood on the bridge. The lights were red. The hum of the ship was suppressed.
"Three minutes to horizon," Alara reported from the helm. Her hands danced over the controls, adjusting the micro-thrusters to keep them in the moon's radar shadow.
"Target cluster?" Elian asked.
Disciple Lin checked the passive sensors.
"The Federation fleet is holding formation at the L1 Lagrange Point. Eleven ships. They are scanning the planet, watching the Liberator."
"They are looking down," Elian said. "So we hit them from the side."
He opened the comms channel to the external pods.
"Grom. Status."
"DARK," Grom's voice rumbled back. "COLD. CRAMPED. I AM READY."
"Remember the physics," Elian said. "We are releasing you at Mach 15 relative to the target. The retro-rockets will fire automatically at 500 meters. If you trigger them early, you stop too soon and the Point-Defense lasers cut you in half. If you trigger them late, you splatter against the hull."
"I TRUST THE MACHINE," Grom said. "AND I TRUST THE LORD OF IRON."
"Alara," Elian commanded. "Come about. Attack vector."
The Nemesis crested the horizon of the moon.
Suddenly, the suns blinded them.
Ahead, floating against the backdrop of stars, lay the Federation blockade. Eleven sleek grey daggers hanging in the void.
"Targeting the flank vessel," Elian ordered. "F.S.S. Vigilant. Calculating solution."
[ Solution Locked. ]
[ Probability of Intercept: 94%. ]
[ Launch Window: 5 Seconds. ]
"Fire," Elian said.
THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.
Three magnetic clamps released on the hull of the Nemesis.
Three black coffins shot away into the void.
They gave off no heat. They had no active engines. They were just cold metal tumbling through the dark, guided by inertia and math.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ LOCATION: BOARDING POD 1 ]
⫸ [ PILOT: WAR-LEADER GROM ]
Grom saw nothing.
The pod had no windows. He was encased in the Titan-Mech, which was encased in the pod.
He was a statue in the dark.
The only light came from the red HUD of his visor.
Numbers scrolled down the screen. Distance. Velocity. Time to Impact.
[ DISTANCE: 50KM ]
[ VELOCITY: 12,000 KPH ]
He controlled his breathing.
He was a Giant. He was used to the solid earth, the jungle, the weight of stone.
This... nothingness... disturbed his spirit.
But he gripped the controls of the mech. The suit hummed against his skin, a second heart of fusion and steel.
[ DISTANCE: 5KM ]
[ WARNING: PROXIMITY ALERT ]
Suddenly, the pod shook.
A laser from the enemy ship had grazed the ablative armor.
[ DISTANCE: 500M ]
[ INITIATING BRAKING MANEUVER ]
BOOM.
The solid-fuel retro-rockets on the front of the pod detonated.
Grom was slammed forward against his harness.
The G-force was immense. His vision grayed out.
The velocity dropped from Mach 15 to Mach 1 in two seconds.
CRASH.
The pod hit.
Metal screamed. The magnetic clamps engaged with a sound like a thunderclap that vibrated through the hull.
Silence returned.
Grom opened his eyes.
"I LIVE."
He triggered the explosive bolts on the pod door.
BANG.
The door blew outward into space.
Grom stepped out.
He was standing on the hull of the F.S.S. Vigilant.
He looked down. The grey plating stretched out for hundreds of meters.
He looked up. A Point-Defense turret was swiveling toward him.
"NO," Grom growled.
He raised the 30mm Rotary Cannon.
The mech's targeting computer locked on.
BRRRRRRT.
A stream of depleted uranium shells shredded the turret before it could fire.
Grom activated his mag-boots.
CLANG. CLANG.
He walked to the maintenance hatch.
He grabbed the handle with his hydraulic claw.
He pulled.
The hatch didn't open. The locking mechanism held.
Grom didn't care. He pulled harder.
[ HYDRAULIC OUTPUT: 100% ]
The metal tore. The hatch ripped out of the deck like a soda can tab.
Air rushed out.
Grom jumped in.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ LOCATION: F.S.S. VIGILANT – DECK 4 ]
⫸ [ STATUS: BREACH ]
The corridor was white and sterile.
Alarms were blaring.
A squad of Federation Marines had taken cover behind a blast shield.
"Hull breach on Deck 4! We have... something entered the ship!"
"Is it a boarding drone?"
"It's too big!"
Then they heard it.
THUD... THUD... THUD.
Heavy, metallic footsteps. The floorplates vibrated.
Grom turned the corner.
The marines froze.
They had expected a man in a suit. Or a floating robot.
They did not expect a six-meter tall walking tank painted blood-red and black.
Grom had to hunch his shoulders to fit in the hallway. The optics of the Titan Mech glowed like demon eyes.
"Open fire!" the Sergeant screamed.
Plasma bolts lit up the hallway.
PEW-PEW-PEW.
The blue energy splashed against Grom's chest plate.
[ SHIELD INTEGRITY: 98% ]
Grom didn't even slow down.
He walked through the fire.
He reached the blast shield.
He didn't shoot them. He kicked the shield.
CRUNCH.
The shield flew backward, crushing the two marines behind it against the wall.
The Sergeant panicked. He fired a grenade launcher.
The grenade hit Grom's shoulder.
BOOM.
Smoke filled the corridor.
"Got him!"
The smoke cleared.
Grom stood there. The paint on his shoulder was scorched.
He looked annoyed.
"LITTLE FLIES," Grom's amplified voice shook the walls.
He raised the Rotary Cannon.
He didn't fire the gun. The hallway was too narrow; the ricochet would be dangerous.
Instead, he revved the barrel.
WHIRRRRR.
The sound alone was terrifying.
The remaining marines dropped their weapons. They ran.
"COWARDS," Grom grunted.
"War-Leader," Elian's voice came over the neural link. "Objective: The Engine Room. Disable the drive. Do not destroy it. We want the ship."
"UNDERSTOOD."
Grom began to run.
A running Titan Mech in a confined space was a juggernaut. He smashed through bulkheads. He tore through doors. He was an unstoppable force of kinetic energy.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ LOCATION: F.S.S. VIGILANT – BRIDGE ]
⫸ [ STATUS: PANIC ]
Captain Halloway stared at his screens.
"Security! Report!"
"They are... they are everywhere, sir! Deck 4 is gone. Deck 5 is compromised. It's a mech! A Titan-Class!"
"A Titan?" Halloway went pale. "How did they get a Titan on board? We detected no dropship!"
"Sir! Two more impacts detected on the F.S.S. Bravery and the F.S.S. Dauntless!"
Halloway looked out the viewport.
To his left and right, his sister ships were venting atmosphere.
Explosions rippled across their hulls.
"It's a coordinated strike," Halloway realized. "The rogue signal... it wasn't a glitch. It was a lure."
The lights on the bridge flickered. Then died.
Red emergency lighting kicked in.
"Captain! We have lost engine control! The reactor has been... manually disconnected."
"Manually?"
"Someone ripped the coolant cables out, sir."
Halloway drew his sidearm. He pointed it at the blast door.
"Stand fast! We hold the bridge!"
BOOM.
The blast door dented inward.
A fist. A massive, four-fingered metal fist.
BOOM.
The door buckled.
CRASH.
The door fell inward.
Grom stepped onto the bridge.
He filled the room. His head scraped the ceiling tiles.
He scanned the crew.
The helmsman fainted.
Halloway fired his pistol. The bullet dinged off Grom's knee.
Grom walked forward.
He reached down with his massive hydraulic hand.
He gently plucked the pistol from Halloway's hand, like taking a toy from a child.
He crushed the gun into a ball of metal and dropped it.
"SIT," Grom commanded.
Halloway sat.
⬡ ─── ⬡ ─── ⬡
⫸ [ LOCATION: THE NEMESIS ]
⫸ [ STATUS: VICTORY LAP ]
Elian watched the tactical map.
Three ships in the formation had turned red. Then green.
[ SIGNAL: BOARDING SUCCESSFUL ]
[ ENGINES: DISABLED ]
The other eight ships in the blockade were in chaos.
They were breaking formation, their sensors spinning wildly, trying to find the invisible enemy that was eating them from the inside.
"They are scattering," Lin said. "They think it's a stealth fleet."
"Hail them," Elian ordered. "Open channel to the fleet."
[ Channel Open. ]
"This is the Iron Sect," Elian's voice projected across the void, cold and synthetic. "Three of your ships are mine. Your formation is broken. You have two choices."
He paused.
"Choice A: You continue to wait for the Carrier. My boarding teams will visit you, one by one. You will die in the dark."
"Choice B: You leave my system. You run back to your masters and tell them the rent is overdue."
On the screen, the remaining eight blips hesitated.
They were Federation warships. They were programmed for dominance.
But they were witnessing impossible things. Mechs appearing out of thin air. Ships dying in seconds.
The lead ship, the F.S.S. Intrepid, began to turn.
It spooled up its Warp-Drive.
"Retreat," a voice crackled over the comms. "All vessels, fall back to the outer marker. Regroup for the Carrier."
One by one, the eight ships turned and burned hard away from the planet.
They didn't warp out of the system. They retreated to the edge.
But the blockade was broken.
Elian looked at the three disabled ships drifting in orbit.
The Vigilant. The Bravery. The Dauntless.
"Three more Destroyers," Elian said. "Plus the Liberator. And the Nemesis."
"We have a fleet," Alara whispered. "A real fleet."
Elian touched the reactor in his chest.
"Not yet," he said. "We have five ships. The Carrier brings a hundred fighters and shields we can't scratch."
He looked at the captured vessels.
"But now we have parts."
"Grom," Elian radioed.
"COMMANDER."
"Good hunting," Elian said. "Secure the prisoners. And don't break the chairs. We need those."
[END OF CHAPTER 40]