Chapter 10

The chaingun had been cocked before even leaving the base, but Marilin opened the breech block again just to be sure. Inside, a single sixty millimeter shell was nestled snugly, its compatriots lined up in a destructive link that reached all the way to the aft of the enormous gun, where a drum was attached inches away from the ball socket of the Strider’s left arm.

“Calm down.” Aemelia was right next to her, marching slowly in her Bucharest, Argus. She had noticed Marilin’s movements for the past half hour, and had tried her best to ease her nervousness. “We haven’t even gotten there yet.”

“Waiting is half the battle.” Marilin used the Strider’s right hand to tickle the handle of her craft’s sheathed sword, without even realising. Due to the ongoing war in Australia, budget cuts had been made to the defense of the country. Spirit Strider ammunition was expensive not simply by size but how much could be carelessly expended in an intense engagement. Melee weapons had to be used every time money came up short.

“Course it is. Remember the briefing? Nothing too much for us, so have a little confidence.” Aemelia slumped on her seat, something Marilin could only tell from her long sigh through the intercom. “Two Striders is overkill. This fight, if there is any, will be short.”

Marilin’s nerves were still not at ease. As they marched down the road, a slight bend marked something that she had put inside deep in her memory. They were in the Outer, where navigational records held by the Inner authorities were over decades old. Much had changed since the Outer had stopped being patrolled by police, and as such, it was unknown ground. Information came in the form of aerial photographs taken three days before, shown at the briefing.

“No one here.” It was desolate. While Marilin knew from childhood that there were not so many people wandering the streets in the Outer, even when winter began to recede, it was not as deserted as this. Not even in the deep throes of the most brutal time of a Shiinevarean year.

“Don’t make that assumption.” Aemelia sounded ticked off. “We’re being watched.”

As the two quickened the pace, the bend curved into a larger road that passed underneath the one they had originally travelled, marking it an overpass. In front of them at the end of the road was a double laned entrance that snaked into the ground. Two low hanging bars were suspended from the front of the entrance, silently waving about with every opportunate breeze. While they posed no problem to their entry, Marilin would guess that they had to be dealt with, and any method to remove them would cause a hell of a lot of noise. Spirit Striders were not very dextrous when it came to crouching or lowering their profile, and Marilin could see that bypassing the bars would be impossible.

“Is that it? The briefing described an old parking lot, and the aerial photos seem to match.”

“I reckon so. Let’s get in.”

It was dark. Almost pitch black from the outside, the parking lot entrance seemed to be completely enclosed. The entryway was cavernous, originally meant to be able to accommodate enormous cargo trailers and enough for a full sized Bucharest to run through standing up. Its size and dark interior made it all the more menacing.

“Lights on.”

Two beacons of light erupted into the carpark, originally engulfed in darkness, as the shoulder mounted searchlights of both Striders lit up. The spots of light showed something that Marilin had rather expected to see- rows upon rows of pillars erect in an organised fashion, supporting the roof, and heaps of debris scattered among the floor. A few cars, seemingly tiny from this height, were scattered about. An enormous cargo trailer lay on the leftmost corner of the car park, obscured by several pillars that jutted from the floor to support the roof.. The space was enormous, but no sign of any recent activity could be seen.

“Maybe the mole that tipped the police off lied.”

“No.” Aemelia was convinced, and raised her built in weapon to the surrounding darkness. “They wouldn’t lie. We’re paying them a handsome sum, and keeping them contained until we can verify their claims. If they tipped us off wrong, they’d be killed.”

Marilin’s attention was occupied elsewhere. “I can feel that there are eyes on us.”

“You’re right. Something is here. This might not be their headquarters, but this place is not abandoned.”

“Not abandoned.”

Marilin unsheathed her sword, its edge glowing faintly as the slightly-heated sarinium flowed within the blade. Usually it would not be noticeable, but the darkness in the parking lot was oppressive, and the slight glow could be seen as clear as day. Two pillars of light shining from their shoulders were the only thing separating them from pitch black.

“Night optics?” Marilin was ready to flick a switch before Aemelia interjected.

“Useless. There is no heat here, and we’d be blinded by our own searchlight.” Aemelia slowed her Strider to a tip toe, speaking slowly with a voice lined with ice. They were both on full alert. “The rebels have nothing that can truly stop us, but this place- still. It screams of an ambush. A trap.”

In the persistent dark and the heaps of rubbish and rubble scattered about pillars that obscured their view even further, it was hard to disagree.

“Stop.”

“What is it?” Marilin stopped with all weapons ready.

“I heard something. It’s not the sound of a weapon I know, but something’s here.”

Reassurances would not help them now. “I’m not picking up anything on my radar with all the pillars about. Night vision with the searchlight off isn’t seeing any heat. There’s a ghost in here.”

No matter how empty the parking lot seemed, there always felt like something, just something, was being blanketed in the darkness. Patience was wearing thin.

“I’m going to run to the back of the parking lot. If anything tries to pop me, open fire on the muzzle flash. If there’s nothing here, well, at least we’ll know.” Aemelia flicked her searchlight off as she stowed her handheld gun, going into a running position. It was a move that was very risky for an inexperienced pilot; running at great speeds using a Strider's dexterity was one thing, but stopping the hurtling hunk of mass from crashing into anything in the process was another matter. It was something Marilin had never tried to attempt herself, even in the safety of a simulation. Jogging was far easier, and Spirit Striders were often deployed more at range where even fast walking made an incredible difference in evading various forms of munitions, making sprinting something that was often not required. “Make sure not to hit me, now.”

Marilin did not respond to that comment. It was a given. Nothing could eliminate a Spirit Strider as efficiently and as fast as another of its kind, making rigorous training in the avoidance of friendly fire ever more important. “Ready. Hit it.”

Aemelia was fast. Like all things, there was something experience could do that no amount of preparation could hope to achieve. It was not a dash, but a blur as the Bucharest bounded forward in an incredible push of initial momentum. Such speed was something that could not be achieved by simply training. Aemelia and her Bucharest, Argus, were fast.

But they were not fast enough.

Marilin had never experienced something so unreal in her life. In actuality, it was quite probable that no one except the people in the parking lot at that time had seen something so unbelievably fast. There was first a bang- a sound so unbelievably loud that it’s echo in the enclosed space had deafened and disoriented her for a few seconds. Afterwards, she had not even any time to react to the noise before a faint trail of a projectile shot past her eyes, the line that showed its unbelievably flat and level trajectory disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

By the time the ringing had begun to slightly dissipate from her head, Marilin’s hand was already on the remote trigger of her chaingun, creating a hail of high explosive shells on the back wall of the parking lot, lighting it up like a sick fireworks display. Aemelia’s Bucharest was collapsed on the ground, with whatever that had shot at it having launched a physical mass- probably a sabot- with such ludicrous force that the Strider’s fragile sarinium ball socket joint of its left leg had been completely immolated. Behind them, the projectile had gone through the concrete front wall of the parking lot. Light seeped through the hole that had been made, bleeding into the perpetual darkness like blood out of a wound.

“Stop.” Aemelia sighed, her voice tinged with a wave of resignation. “They’re gone.”

It had only taken two seconds. An artillery gun with enough power to punch through to a Spirit Strider’s ball socket was not impossibly hard to find. What was, however, was marksmanship of such a caliber to land a projectile through the tiny chink in a Bucharest’s leg, and worse- the power to not just punch through the ball socket, but the thick concrete wall behind it. It was also nearly impossible to retreat an artillery gun so fast. Questions flooded Marilin’s mind with the voracity of a typhoon.

“At the very least, I am alive. My Strider, and this damage, it is easily fixable.” It seemed that the Bucharest of Marilin’s comrade was completely functional, minus one leg. That, in all, made all the difference. “Call a truck. My Strider will be fixed in less than a week.”

Marilin grit her teeth just as hard as she released her grip on the control stick. “A ghost.”

“We have many, many questions. And not enough time to mull them over.” Aemelia had opened her cockpit hatch and stepped out into the frigid darkness. Her uncanny confidence of the disappearance of the threat reassured Marilin. “This weapon in the rebels hands...no matter what, a concrete fact we know is that it must be eliminated. I have seen this sort of weapon in Australia. The United Nations use it to fight our Spirit Striders, as a cheaper solution than using aircraft- all that is needed is a sufficient gun, and a powerful targeting computer.”

“An artillery gun can’t achieve enough penetration to-”

Aemelia groaned through the speaker as she made an attempt to get her Strider up, but it was fruitless. Whatever weapon had engaged them in the dark had done it’s job. “Stop. Questions, later. Help me up.” Marilin, still jittery, was slow to oblige.

She had a lot to say, but Aemelia was not in the mood or state to hear it.

“Don’t worry about talking and questions. You’ll have so many chances later you’ll hate it. And reports. Do you like writing reports?” Aemelia shone a wicked grin in the face of such ever present danger. “You better.”

---

Reports were awful.

The questions never stopped, endless inquiries into something she could nearly not even remember. While the threat it posed was great and the efforts to find out more were understandable, Marilin figured that it all came at the expense of her sleep schedule. It was one in the morning, and she was still filing reports and answering questions on her PAD. As the best witness in the situation, she had been given the brunt of the interrogation. Aemelia had been questioned, but as her searchlight was off when she was hit, she was unable to contribute much to the identifying of the threat.

Two researchers had been flown over from the other side of the country, where they had momentarily examined the Argus before directing a slew of questions at Marilin. Were you hit? What did you feel when the projectile was fired? Were you able to find anything with your detection systems prior to the incident? What was the parking lot like? How fast did the gun flash disappear? Describe it.

The questions were still ringing an annoying melody on her PAD. The latest- ‘What did the projectile’s trail look like?’ was one she swore she had answered already.

An investigation unit had been assembled at an alarming pace. In the space of less than two hours, report forms had been made and sent, replacement parts had been ordered and all necessary measurements confirmed and sent. The debriefing for both Marilin and Aemelia had been rather short, but once she arrived in the room, the notifications had started ringing. And they had not stopped- not stopped since seven in the afternoon yesterday.

The questions she answered to the best of her ability and were not all too bad individually, but reports were something else. Reports were something she had never had to and never had written. “You’re in for a cold shock. Especially after this.” was what Aemelia had told her, and with her face hugging the cold of the table despite her third cup of coffee- something she never drank willingly- she couldn't agree more as the new day had begun.

Her fingers had gone numb from furiously clattering on her PAD’s screen, and her eyes were in an arguably worse state as she fought a constant battle of keeping them open. The night had been long, and something told her that the day would be longer.

A knock came at her door. Not just any knock. Ignoring the boldly printed ‘DO NOT DISTURB’ sign she had placed at the door, whoever delivering her message had to be of some importance. She slugged out of her chair, and grasped the doorknob.

“Good morning Ma-” The woman at her door held a mug of coffee, which Marilin had already refused to drink after the third cup of the night. She seemed familiar somehow, even in her sleepy haze. “Heavens, you look fresh from the morgue. No sleep?”

Marilin’s reply was somewhere between a grunt of approval and a hostile growl.

Her eyes crossed a binder full of sheaths of paper that the woman was holding, and even she knew that the look on her face said that she would like nothing better than to throw the next folder she saw into the deepest depths of hell.

The woman retracted the binder and the cup of the coffee, as it looked like Marilin wanted nothing to do with either.

“I suppose these can be done at a later date.” With a start, Marilin realised that the woman was the same one that had escorted her to her Spirit Strider that morning. Jennifer, was it? “But I need them as soon as possible. The danger at hand is an-”

“Enormous threat to national security. Anything else?”

“You seem...awfully unconcerned.”

“I am presently alarmed about the possibility of collapsing, in which case I will no longer be capable of being concerned about anything.” She was above giving a polite reply, and it came at the behest of anyone who happened to come at her door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

Jennifer put her hand on her shoulder before Marilin managed to slam the door shut. “I’ll write. You speak.”

As she propped herself up onto her bed, she began to narrate the story of her first mission to the attentively listening woman who now sat at her desk, falling slowly asleep under the calm lull of the morning quiet. They talked for an hour, or more, the experience of the previous day fresh yet so obscure as her own mind tried to grapple with the true happenings in those fateful few seconds. Talked.

She asked no questions.

---

“Don’t worry about my Strider. The weapon that hit was designed to incapacitate, not permanently disable.”

“Good, that’s good…”

Jennifer had left a long time ago while Marilin was still asleep. It had been less than three minutes after she woke up, and Aemelia had promptly knocked on her door. She had never had so many visitors appear in a single day, and she was unsure whether she should be pleased or annoyed.

“I’ll be back on another sortie tomorrow, but I’ll be confined to the city. The way Argus got scratched up yesterday, that really scared the ones up top. Did you hear? Troops were deployed to the Outer last night. A third front for our military has been opened up, right at our doorstep.” Aemelia took a sip of the coffee Jennifer had left on her table before wrinkling her face in mute disgust. “The man that gave us the false lead to the parking lot. He escaped. The rebels had planned the whole thing from the very beginning, and we underestimated their potential miserably.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“That was partially our fault, of course.” replied Aemelia, twitching her fingers. “But for once, I do agree with the brass. Spirit Striders were designed to be weapons that were functionally immune from damage with enough skill and careful deployment. As you can see, we suddenly are facing a weapon that disregards this entirely. On our doorstep, no less.”

Marilin groaned, the stupor from her afternoon nap yet to wear off. “More deployments?”

“Should’ve known when you signed up.” Aemelia snickered.

Another groan.

Marilin had nearly fallen asleep again before Aemelia spoke again, seeing she lacked initiative to lead any sort of conversation at the moment. “Don’t worry about it. The brass can worry themselves to death all they want, but this is just another day on the frontline. This is the natural result of us and our allies having a monopoly on the production and research of expensive weapons like Spirit Striders.”

“Natural result?”

“Right. Did you listen in history class? Listen to them teach about the Second World War, predecessor to our third?” Marilin nodded. It was ancient history by now, but was still considered an important chapter in the development of the world. “Russia, or we know as Rossiya after merging with Shinevaar, yes? They were called the Soviet Union at the time. The leading offensive force at sea was the aircraft carrier- almost like it is today. They faced a problem- they couldn’t afford to build as many as their rival on the other side of the sea.” Everyone in Shiinevaar would know who said rival was. They had been a hard nut to crack, but fell eventually to internal pressure and climate in the past decades. “So what do the Soviets do? Build missiles. Missiles that are several times cheaper than the cost of an aircraft carrier but can only be used once. So what? If you send fifteen missiles and only one of them hits- yet that missile incapacitates or even sinks a carrier- you’ve already won out economically. That is the problem with any expensive leviathan made in history. From the Yamato to Castle Worcester-'' Aemelia laughed and Marilin’s interest was instantly piqued. “I was on that mission myself. Once we landed a detachment of Striders on the roof of the castle airstrip, they were done for. Castle Worcester was never made to fight. Only to be a symbol.”

“So people fighting a Spirit Strider do this? Make a cheap weapon to fight our machines?”

“Make enough of them. Quantity has always proved itself to hold out against quality. All you need is any sort of artillery gun that can punch through a Strider, and a powerful enough computer to produce a complex firing solution. Get enough of them, and even a Strider’s point defense system will be overwhelmed. Sounds easy, right?”

“Threat to national security, the girl that came before you said.”

“That’s only because of it’s proximity to us. What killed us that day wasn’t the cannon, it was overconfidence. It’s always been this way. Anti-tank grenades against armoured giants. Torpedoes against battleships. Missiles against aircraft carriers. If enough cheap garbage is hurled at them, the giants will fall.”

“That sounds pessimistic. Slightly prophetic, too.”

Aemelia stood to get up, indicating her leave. “Think I’ve disturbed you for long enough. Get some rest, you’ll need it. Your boss told me your next deployment is two days from now. A sweep of the city. Good night.”

“It’s the middle of the afternoon.”

A grin was the only reply that she gave before the door closed and the room was once again enveloped in darkness.