The Cavalier engineer looked over his work and nodded in satisfaction. Standing nearly twenty feet tall and humanoid in appearance, the object of the engineer’s attention was a true killing machine, a walking tank. To him, it was a beautiful, shining example of bleeding-edge engineering. Cav’s were designed to be the shocktroopers of the Union Military, and were brutally efficient at the job. At the same time, the high-performance machines required a lot of special attention to maintain best performance, and that’s where the engineer came in, and he loved every inch of those machines.
The man had to admit, he loved his job. He was stationed in a hidden, top-secret military complex buried in a mountain on a sleepy little world. He had been hand-picked for his Cavalier mechanical expertise, and had been shipped off to this remote planet and instructed to fine-tune high-end military mechs. Which suited him just fine, he could spend all day in the hangar working on his beautiful Cavs. It suited him so well that he often joked that he’d have taken the posting for a fraction of the pay. In fact, the engineer would have been content to have continued working on his Cavalier units all day. Right up to the point when the wall behind him exploded.
Claxons began blaring throughout the hangar. The explosion had sent several twenty-five ton mechs sprawling all over the bay. Pilots, technicians, mechanics, and military police came out of the woodwork in the bay running every which way in an attempt to get control of the situation. They all stopped short however when a giant figure emerged from the smoking hole that had just been rent into the bulkhead.
The engineer, dazed and bleeding, watched the Cav as it stepped over the threshold and into the bay and knew instantly it wasn’t one of his. It was covered in an outlandish paint scheme that was in no way regulation. It was adorned with markings of a well know Mercenary band to boot, and not to mention a veritable armory of weapons that looked to be just as dangerous to the wielder as to the target. What it was doing there in his mech bay he could only guess and the engineer wasn’t really in the mood to take one. Instead he ran for the exit with everyone else.
The Merc Cav came to a stop in the center of the bay, its modular head unit swiveling to take in the carnage apparently appraising its handiwork. As if satisfied with the results it suddenly seemed to stand taller as large variable-friction wheels extended from their recesses in the soles of the feet. Now truly mobile, the Cav began skating down the hangar bay as if the recent course of events were entirely ordinary. A couple of remaining military police took a few pot-shots at it with their side-arms, but without heavier weaponry, there was little they could do to it, and they watched it skate towards the back of the immense bay.
It slowed and stopped before the far wall at the end of the hangar, and a scanning laser flicked out from the head-unit. After a moment, the laser stopped and the machine rolled back a meter or two. It changed its posture to that of a football player about to make a tackle, and two large boxes attached at the shoulders flipped up and locked into position. Panels at the front of the box popped open and twenty ‘mini-missile’ rockets arced out and slammed into the wall creating another massive, smoking hole. The Mercenary Cav stepped over the newest threshold and disappeared into the gloom.
Two stories below in the complex’s main control room, a nervous Captain stared at the readouts on the monitor. From where he was sitting, he could see his career ending in a matter of minutes. The enemy unit had somehow breached the base’s outer defense without being detected and had silently worked its way down thirty stories to wreak almighty havoc in his top-secret hangar bays. He saw its direction, and knew instantly where it was headed. He had no time to consider how this particular Mercenary even knew about what was there, but it was obvious he knew. Sweat beaded on the Captain’s brow. He also knew that the lone mercenary had exploited an as of yet unknown security flaw and bypassed autonomous security by blowing the holes in the walls eschewing the ‘air-lock’ style containment. Now there was nothing between the mercenary and its obvious goal that could possibly stop it.
Moments prior he had been yelling at the poor yeoman at the communication console demanding Cav units to give chase, but it was too late. The main hangar was in shambles and the engineers that hadn’t evacuated had their hands full getting the debris cleared and the mechs right-side up. There were no units capable of responding.
The Captain watched in disbelief and mounting despair as the enemy unit annihilated another wall and entered the White Zone – a special clean zone requiring the highest of clearances. Apparently there was no higher clearance then high explosives. The Captain foolishly wondered how he was supposed to report this to his superiors. He had been given command of three full Cav squadrons, near three hundred elite troops and support personnel, a hollow mountain set up like a fortress to serve as a secret base on an out-of-the-way planet in as dull a system as the Military could possibly find and yet he couldn’t stop a single mercenary mech! His project had been classified Ultra Top Secret, and he had been posted there to protect the Military’s greatest scientific achievement on personal recommendation of a Senator. He wasn’t going to get a discharge, the nervous Captain suddenly thought, he was going to be executed. Once public, their experiment was supposed to be a symbol of the Military’s might for the next decade. And in the growing political jungle, the Military needed a symbol very badly. He was a dead man for sure.
“Where the hell are those Cavs damn it all!? They should be ripping that Merc to shreds by now!” the Captain bellowed in his frustration.
“I’m sorry, sir. Hangar Bay 12 reports all units incapacitated. I can get some units from Hangar 3, but it will take 10 minutes to get from the other side of the complex with all of the security in place,” Ensign Nikki Halloway squeaked out quickly. This was her first day on communications duty at her new post and she was plenty sure the blame was going to get dumped on her. The poor communications officer always gets the blame. She should have listened to her mother and taken the other job offer.
“Security? What fekkin security? That Cav just walked in here like it was the fekkin General Secretary!”
“After the initial explosion, firewalls closed throughout the complex in standard containment procedure. It’s hampering movement in the complex. That’s the point of the system,” Nikki said meekly. The Captain was turning purple and a vein had begun to crisscross up his temple. He gestured wildly at the screen.
“Does that look hampered to you?? No? Then turn it freaking off!! I want those units here yesterday!!”
“Yes, sir!” the Ensign cried. The Captain looked like he was about to murder someone. She quickly entered her passcode credentials and deactivated the emergency containment releasing the firewall locks. She thought quickly about submitting a report to Military HR for “Hostile Work Environment”.
Meanwhile, upstairs, the Mercenary Cav finished laser welding the blast door shut it had just moments before ripped open. That should hold the Military for a bit. The mech turned towards the barely lit hangar behind it and turned on the floods in the head-unit. Immediately a large shape was highlighted in the gloom. It was all alone sitting in the center of the hangar covered in gantries and heavy equipment. The mech came forward and with some effort, pulled most of the heavy equipment off and released the gantry clamps.
Uncovered and in the light, the immense object was revealed to be a sleek looking aircraft of truly staggering proportions. It was massive, big enough to hold at least ten of the Military Cavs in its belly. Its long, tapered wings were swept slightly forward and the beautiful lines of the trailing edge were interrupted by several blocky trapezoid ‘fingers’ placed evenly and symmetrically along the wing. A block of seven engines, three mains in a line, with two minors above and below bordered by two large fantails that swept above and below the main line made up the rear of the aircraft. The smooth lines ran forward into a gooseneck and then into a large forward blister-bridge area that had three canard wings with two at the diagonals above, and one below. Its hull was dotted with gun blisters and hidden panels containing rocket packs and laser stubs that melded the deadliness into form-fitting beauty. This mighty aircraft was the object of the Merc’s raid.
The Merc Cav walked to the rear of the aircraft and knelt down on one knee. The head-unit slid up and forward out of place to rest on the chest faring to reveal a hatch. With a loud hiss as the pressure seal was released, the hatch snapped open. The pilot leapt out and hopped down from the shoulder to the arm resting on the knee, and then slid down the leg to the floor. Quick and agile, the pilot was small and from the skin-tight body suit, was obviously female. She walked to the rear landing gear of the massive craft and opened a box nestled between tires that were easily twice her height. Hitting a few buttons and then punching in a code, a smaller secondary cargo hatch popped open with a hydraulic hiss and lowered to the ground behind the pilot.
The pilot went back to the mech and scrambled back up and into the cockpit. Without closing the cockpit or replacing the head-unit, she walked the machine up the lowered gangway and into the cargo bay of the giant plane. Her Cav could easily stand fully erect and even raise its arms before touching the ceiling. The pilot had seen military bases that could have fit inside that bay. Again making her machine take a knee, the pilot jumped out and ran over to the cargo door control panel. It was at this time, that the lights in the hangar turned from a warning red back to calm white and a computer voice echoing over the intercom began stating that the firewall locks were released. The pilot made a laugh that came through the helmet voice filter as a metallic garble and then entered the code sequence to cycle shut the side cargo door, sealing her inside the belly of the beast.
Back in the control room, the Captain was screaming like a mad man. He had completely lost all composure as the situation fell farther and farther from his control. Nikki was still trying to be brave, and he was still screaming. The units from Hangar 3 were stuck four stories above waiting for a cargo elevator to ferry them down. Everything was moving far too slowly.
Nikki squeaked from her console, and the Captain ran over to look at the screen. What he saw there made his blood run cold. The Merc had actually made it into the main hangar and had gone inside the aircraft. Preposterous! How the hell was it bypassing all of their security? The Captain made a strange gagging sound as they watched the craft’s engines begin to glow on the monitor, but Ensign Halloway was too frightened to look at the man. She jumped as he began screaming at the Cav units through her communication headset from behind her. The pilots could probably hear the man without the communications gear.
“The Merc has made contact with the Praetorian MK III!!! Get your fekkin asses in gear and get there! So help me whatever GOD you pricks pray too, if you asswipes ain’t in that hangar in 30 seconds I’ll make sure you are all sent to an Arctic Zone for permanent duty!! There went five seconds…I mean yesterday people!!”
The ensign heard some yelps from the Cavs and then a rumble as the pilots decided it was quicker to blow a hole through the cargo elevator. She thought it was safer for them in the end then facing the Captain’s ire. She was probably right.
The Merc finished removing the safety catches on the Patterson reactor in the strangely cramped engine compartment and shoved the control rods back in place. Damn engineers, always so fussy about the packaging. The system came to life, and she ran for the bridge. It was a long run, and she felt the engines rumble to life as she did so. Lights turned on in the hallways, and the air ventilation system kicked in.
Once on the bridge she got a good look at the door she had welded shut earlier. It was starting to glow. Apparently the military had finally caught up and were trying to melt their way inside. They were still too slow.
The Merc looked around the cockpit. The cockpit for this aircraft couldn’t rightfully be called a cockpit. It was too big. There were six seats on the main bridge. Three forward: one for the pilot, navigator, and weapons officer. Three aft: one center and facing forward for the aircraft commander, and then two flanking that chair pointing off to port and starboard for radar and communications officers. The Merc knew that those seats were necessary for the craft in standard conditions, but under her conditions she only needed the pilot’s chair. She jumped into that forward chair and tapped haphazardly on the blank main screen to bring the computer online.
The screen blinked to life and ran through the POST (Power-On Start Test) startup checks. Then it came up with the standard aircraft HUD holographically superimposed over the immediate air above the screen. She whistled in amazement. The ship had all the latest toys. In the corner of the holographic interface was a small box with Praetorian MK III Main System: Booting… flashing. The Merc thought this message was a little odd in light of the system already being active but she didn’t have time to dwell on it, so she pushed the thought away and started up the main engine block. She also, as per the instructions she had been given, started up the Patterson Drive Extensions.
She pulled up an external camera and watched as the “fingers” situated along the trailing edge of the wing split down the horizontal line of their trapezoidal boxes to angle half of the unit above, and half below the wing. The culminated effect of the motion was a series of “feathers” now splayed out along the wing. Inside each opened box was the actual PDE emitter which increased the thrust ratio of the craft nearly one hundred times that of the main engine block which is the sole reason a craft so immense could even get off the ground. The pilot also knew that same system’s primary function was to power the craft through slipspace jumps. Patterson FTL technology has been the key discovery that had originally propelled mankind into the stars. In the intervening generations since its discovery, the technology had been substantially upgraded, culminating in the latest versions adorning the wings of the plane.
The Merc accessed the remote hangar control system using the password she’d been given and accessed the turntable controls. The tarmac on which the craft was situated began to rotate to the right towards another massive blast door. According to the information she’d been given on taking this assignment, that door accessed the main flight ramp for the craft and was a one-way trip out of the mountain. With the firewall locks off, she had no trouble opening the blast door on her end, and the blast door on the other end that lead outside.
“What in the name of…?” the Captain trailed off, his hoarse voice failing him. He could only watch as the turntable finished moving the giant plane into take-off position.
Nikki closed her eyes, “You ordered me to deactivate the firewall locks. In doing so, the enemy unit was given access to the door controls.” The Captain was surely going to call that insubordination and shoot her on the spot. Why were commanding officers armed?
The Captain spun and stared at her a moment, and then sank to his knees in defeat. It was over. Due to Military Code in emergency situations, everything that he stated or ordered was recorded by the computer for playback later in case of review or court-martial. The Captain was sure it was the latter, and it would lead straight to the firing squad. He had indeed ordered the ensign to deactivate the security locks in order to get the Cavs from Hangar 3 quicker.
Nikki felt a sudden wave of relief. The Captain wasn’t going to shoot her!
“Patterson Reactor at 95%. Launch available,” the computer chimed in. The Mercenary hit a button, and a side holo-display flipped alive showing the blast door behind her. The door was actually beginning to melt away with entire chunks of reinforced armor plating sloughing off. In the gaps of the door, she caught a glimpse the deep blue of the military Cavs huddled behind. No more time to waste, time to punch it and get the hell gone.
The Merc placed her left hand on the yoke, and then began to throttle up. The craft bucked a bit, but didn’t move. The brake and anchor system was holding. The information she had been given told her that the craft needed to spin up before taking the ramp or it would never achieve flight. The screen showed the throttle spiral meter showing 50% and rising. Just a little more…
The blast door finally gave way in an explosion of sparks and flying metal slag. The military cavs came pouring into the bay taking up defensive positions. They wheeled towards the front trying to block the craft as they were under the strictest of orders to not damage the plane. But it was too late, the Patterson Drive Extensions began to glow a deep purple, and the Mercenary punched the break release. As the brakes on the craft released, large purple spirals of energy simultaneously erupted from the Emitters catching an unlucky Cav full in the torso and blowing it off of its feet and into the rear wall. In a shower of purple light spiraling aft, The Praetorian MK III shot up the launch tube like a bullet from a gun and out into the morning sky leaving the military Cavs staring up after it.
From several stories below, a strangled cry of despair could be heard through the comms.
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