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Post by IA on Nov 20, 2023 20:09:51 GMT
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⠀1 - Awakening
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⠀TINDSA Android Manufacturing Plant, Sabana Grande
⠀Apason Protectorate
⠀ United States of Novadieta
⠀January 11, 0120 R.C.
“All security forces on Apason are expected to have at least one EK-model Fahnenträger assigned at the platoon level.”
“And why might I need to be present for the activation?” asked a second voice.
“First impressions are key in forming a bond,” explained the first voice. “It’s ideal that an Ethra immediately familiarizes itself with its unit when possible.”
“‘It’?”
“Needless humanizing is detrimental; both for the machine and its assigned unit.”
The sound of approaching footsteps came to an end, and then there was silence. After a brief interlude, the first voice spoke once more.
“A soldier that can fight on an empty stomach, march without sleep... It is truly a machine suited for this harsh planet. This will be its first glimpse of the world.”
Suddenly, there came a loud hiss from the darkness—then, akin to a veil being lifted, the pod opened, light pouring in. As it did, a pair of artificial eyes opened to meet the silhouettes standing before its form.
EK119/10981 witnessed its first human beings, falling back upon onboard data to inform its assessment. It understood there was a need to protect their lives, a task intrinsic to its own existence—the value of the human life it was tasked with protecting took precedence over its survival as a machine.
The two men stood, scrutinizing the awakening machine, observing with care—then the one on the right, clad in a labcoat, spoke.
“Uh, good morning,” he began. “It is January 11, Rational Calendar year 0120. You are on the moon Apason, second major orbiting body of the gas giant Phainon. You are in the city of Sabana Grande, capital of the Apason Protectorate. I am Dr. Ernst Frankl; I oversaw your manufacture.”
Dr. Frankl looked to his side—EK119/10981 looked too, studying the second man. His military uniform identified him as a soldier immediately.
“Oberleutnant Carlos Menéndez,” the second man announced. “I run C platoon of 24. Jägerbataillon’s 3rd company.”
The doctor nodded, “Now, why don’t you introduce yourself?”
“I am Karina EK119/10981,” the machine bowed slightly. “I am a combat-configuration Ethra-model android. My date of manufacture is December 24, 0119.”
While it introduced itself, a quick series of system scans were run in the background—all returned satisfactory results.
“Diagnostics show all my systems to be in optimal condition,” EK119/10981 elaborated. “How may I serve the Fatherland?”
Dr. Frankl seemed pleased enough by the response.
“Oberleutnant Menéndez will be your superior from now on. You will serve as the Fahnenträger of his platoon.”
The Oberleutnant gave a nod. “Come on, let’s get you introduced to the platoon’s HQ troop.”
“Understood, sir!” EK119/10981 was compelled to heed the instruction with a salute.
With that, the android began following its superior through the facility. As it already understood, TINDSA — Tecnologias Industriales Novadieta, S.A. — was chiefly responsible for most of Novadieta’s active service androids.
“EK119/10981 is a bit of a mouthful...” Menéndez began speaking once Dr. Frankl was out of earshot. “Wouldn’t you prefer Karina?”
“The choice is yours to make,” it replied. “But such a name would make distinguishing my unit from identical designs difficult.”
“Good point,” the Oberleutnant conceded. “How’s 981 sound?”
The android deliberated on the matter briefly—it would suffice, it surmised.
“If you wish,” 981 said.
“All right, then.” Menéndez nodded. “Nice meeting you, 981.”
“Nice meeting you too,” it offered a measured response to the compliment.
Menéndez led the way, passing the other assembly lines. 981 could see other units in varying states of completion, all bound for their own eventual activation.
Upon reaching the facility exit, Menéndez paused before the blast doors.
“Our garrison’s roughly on the other side of Sabana Grande,” he explained. “Use this as an opportunity to familiarize yourself with the city.”
981 watched the Oberleutnant activate a control panel with his hand's biometrics, prompting the blast doors to slide open. Menéndez resumed walking, with the Ethra model following close behind.
Given its subterranean layout, Sabana Grande bore more semblance to a sprawling, somewhat claustrophobic mall than the terrestrial cities of distant Plateia. Shops flanked both sides of the thoroughfare, while crowds of people busily went through their daily routines. Artificial light poured in from above, casting everything in a dim yellowish tint.
981 studied its surroundings with care, falling back upon pre-installed data where required. Sabana Grande was largely reserved as a civilian population center—the largest one on Apason proper—whereas the colony’s military facilities, including TINDSA factories like the one Menéndez had brought it from, were located at its periphery.
Menéndez continued walking along Sabana Grande’s main concourse, 981 tailing him closely—its eyes darting about, eagerly taking in its first impressions of Apason. As they did, 981 idly processed nearby conversations. It was about midday, by the standard of the colony’s self-imposed schedule. Students were beginning to leave class, either hanging out by the shops or beginning towards the residential districts.
Being located in the outer solar system, unfathomably far from their Plateian cradle, the people of the Apason Protectorate simply defaulted to Novadietan standard time. A day on Apason lasted about sixteen Plateian days, with an orbital period roughly equivalent to its rotation. Thus local Apasonian time was fairly meaningless to the subterranean inhabitants—their connection to the Fatherland mattered more.
The Oberleutnant had noticed 981’s curious gaze. “Welcome to Sabana Grande; it’s the beating heart of our operations here on Apason. You’ll get used to patrolling this place.”
981 tried its hand at a smile, as if to emote sympathetically, “This information came pre-installed with my manufacture... but I don’t mind the firsthand tour.”
Menéndez returned the gesture, albeit briefly, before looking ahead once more. The Ethra model supposed its superior was busy—981 decided not to interrupt his thoughts.
After continuing for a little while longer, 981 noted Menéndez taking a left turn, approaching what appeared to be a cafe. He stopped to face 981.
“All platoon HQ troops hang out here on our off time—you’ll probably get used to this spot. And our garrison is just down this way...” He gestured further down the mall-like concourse. “Let’s get you introduced to the guys.”
981 nodded—Menéndez resumed walking once more, with the Ethra model following behind. They passed more rows of shops, rife with the noon bustle.
The android evaluated the surrounding concourse with great interest, each passerby warranting a brief study, each row of shops scrutinized with studious fascination. As they walked, 981 saw a civilian-model Karina standing beside the AVENDSA offices—Novadieta’s flag carrier in air and space travel.
“Looking for a vacation? The next torch to the inner solar system arrives in...” There was a slight delay, as if it were consulting preexisting data. “Three weeks. Reserve your ticket today!”
Menéndez noticed 981’s gaze, “Don’t worry about it too much. There’s a lot of ‘you’s out there.”
981 did not seem offended in the least. “Of course. I’m a fairly common variant, after all.”
Menéndez smiled—981 supposed its superior appreciated its relaxed disposition.
Upon rounding another corner, the Oberleutnant could be heard uttering an exhale. 981 looked ahead to see a heavy blast door flanked by security forces— Menéndez seemed pleased by the sight.
“We’re here,” he announced. 981 could surmise the garrison entrance was before it— Menéndez promptly approached one of the security forces standing guard, 981 coming to a halt a few steps behind. Menéndez saluted the security forces—981 followed suit immediately afterward.
“My platoon’s designated Fahnenträger,” Menéndez explained. “Its assignment order should be in the manifest already.” 981 assumed the security force confirmed Menéndez’ statement—the Ethra model stepped forward upon being motioned to.
The security force scrutinized its appearance briefly, then nodded in approval. Menéndez offered 981 a thumbs up, as if to assure its introduction went smoothly—the Ethra model supposed its platoon HQ troop had been successfully verified.
With that, the Oberleutnant lead 981 past the security forces, prompting the blast door to slide open with his biometrics—981 dutifully followed Menéndez into the garrison. Upon passing the door, 981 arrived in a sort of corridor, leading deeper into the garrison facility proper.
“This is C platoon’s hall,” explained the Oberleutnant, stopping before another automated door. “HQ troops’ room is located at the very end.”
981 nodded—Menéndez prompted the corridor’s blast door to slide open, leading the Ethra model further in.
As Menéndez led 981 deeper, they passed other personnel. 981 immediately took note of its platoon mates—other humans, like Menéndez. The android’s arrival had warranted the curiosity of many of those present, being met with inquisitive gazes. 981 idly processed nearby conversations once more, observing them in their varying stages of leisure. Menéndez turned to 981, gesturing towards the door to their side.
“Platoon HQ’s beds are in there,” explained Menéndez. “I should get going. Everyone else should already know you're coming... Go introduce yourself, 981; I'll be back later."
981 offered Menéndez a salute—the Oberleutnant offered a nod, proceeding down the garrison corridor once more. 981 watched Menéndez until he disappeared from its field of view, then faced the door before it.
It supposed its platoon HQ troops rested there—981 slipped through the automated door, its authorization identified by the system. Upon entering the room, 981 could see seven beds arranged against its walls—the Ethra model observed as they noticed the android’s arrival.
There was a brief moment of silence, the android studying its platoon mates briefly, its human counterparts doing the same. Seven were present, eight including itself. 981 supposed introductions were in order, “Good afternoon, everyone; I am Karina EK119/10981. Oberleutnant Menéndez assigned me the role of platoon Fahnenträger upon leaving manufacturing. He has named me ‘981’—how should I refer to all of you from now on?”
The soldiers studied 981 with curiosity. Eventually, one of them spoke up.
“Leutnant Erwin Schultz; I’m Menéndez’s 2IC,” a young man introduced himself. “Welcome to Apason, 981. Feel free to just refer to everyone other than the Oberleutnant—and myself—by name.”
981 nodded, and Schultz gestured towards his platoon mates. “And these guys are... well, the HQ troop of C platoon. Let me introduce you. Over there on that bed, we have Obergefreiter Bruno Diago...”
At this, a man waved from one of the beds. 981 processed Diago as roughly Schultz’ age, perhaps even younger—Diago sported short, spiky black hair, his somewhat boyish features offering 981 an adequate assessment of his person.
Schultz pointed to a muscled young man reclining with a magazine in hand, only for the soldier in question to speak on his own behalf; “Gefreiter Johnny Buch. I’m the machinegunner... you androids don’t have to worry about ear protection, right?”
981 nodded, processing Buch as slightly older than Diago—his green eyes studied its frame carefully, seemingly eager to scrutinize 981. Like Schultz, Buch appeared fairly young.
Schultz then gestured towards a gaunt, pale-skinned man laying down in another bed—he leaned up to greet 981.
“Soldat Juan Acosta. Apasonian, born and raised,” he said.
Consulting pre-installed data, 981 understood Acosta to be a hypogravital—born in Apason’s miniscule gravity, he was far taller and skinnier than his Plateian-born counterparts. On the upside, they were far better adapted to the microgravity environment Apason proper offered. 981 estimated Acosta was roughly Buch’s age—Acosta offered it a nod, his brown eyes studying its frame with care.
Schultz then pointed towards the last soldier in the room: A young woman, perhaps Buch and Diago's age—brunette, sporting a tousled bob cut. Her hazel eyes scrutinized 981 carefully.
Schultz soon spoke on her behalf; “Gefreiter Yvette St. Onge—she’s our anti-armor gunner when we’re given surface duty.”
St. Onge nodded. With the other soldiers properly introduced, Schultz gestured towards two vacant beds in the room; “And that bed over there is mine; feel free to take the one beside it, 981.”
“I don’t exactly sleep, but...”
“I understand you have rest periods to better ensure memory and personality integrity,” said Schultz empathically. “Thus... you’re free to ‘sleep’ in a bed, just like the rest of us.” 981 nodded, to which Schultz smiled.
Diago then spoke up;
“So 981... how does it feel, being freshly manufactured? I mean, Apason’s a bit rough, compared to Plateia... But I guess androids don't miss that sort of stuff, huh?”
981 deliberated briefly—it supposed Diago referred to Plateian comfort standards; “Novadieta spared no effort in assembling me for Apason. There shouldn’t be any issues, as far as my manufacture goes... But, I suppose Apasonians might find Plateia a bit lacking, in some regards...”
Acosta shrugged. 981 guessed Apasonians weren't too fussed about Plateian comfort standards either.
Buch seemed to find something Diago said interesting, as the machinegunner followed the silence with a question of his own;
“So, you androids keep memories and personalities?” Buch looked up, setting his magazine aside. It seemed a silly question, but in truth, it wasn’t far off from what android neural architecture emulated.
“Yes,” 981 nodded.
“Do androids dream too?” Diago chimed in.
981 gave its response some thought, “We cycle through previous memories in order to devise alternative solutions. Improves problem-solving. In that sense, I suppose it is like what you call a dream.”
“I see..” Diago nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
Buch picked his magazine back up, Acosta laid back down, St. Onge seemed content observing from her bed, and Schultz similarly returned to his leisure... 981 supposed introductions had gone smoothly enough—it supposed Menéndez would return at some point. Thus it settled by Schultz’ bed, reclining in a mimicry of its comrades’ leisure.
981 supposed Menéndez wanted the unit familiarized with the android—981 similarly studied its comrades in kind. Diago seemed interested in the Karina, Acosta equally curious—981 assumed platoon HQ troops worked closely with their assigned Fahnenträgers. Thus she quietly observed the unit’s idling, occasionally getting an intrigued glance from one of her compatriots.
Breaking the silence, Menéndez strode into the platoon HQ troops' room shortly thereafter. Upon noticing 981 reclining by Schultz' bed, Menéndez smiled—it was clear to him that the android had gotten along with its new unit decently enough.
981 offered Menéndez a salute—the rest of the unit quickly followed thereafter, hailing his arrival.
981 supposed its superior had a task for its platoon HQ troops—Menéndez spoke shortly after;
“All right—Gear up, everyone, we’re going topside. There’s been a malfunction at the large comms array near the spaceport, and we’ve been tasked with assessing the matter. Shouldn't take too long—981, since this is your first time topside, stick close to Schultz while out there; he should know Apason a bit better than the rest of the unit.”
Menéndez afforded its platoon HQ troops a dismissive nod—981 supposed orders were to muster in the garrison corridor shortly after. Its platoon HQ troop dispersed to gather their gear— Menéndez subsequently turned to Schultz.
981 listened as Menéndez gave Schultz additional instructions, “It shouldn’t be anything serious, but keep an eye on 981 topside—Apason can be rough, and this is its first day. Got it, Erwin?”
Schultz nodded. Menéndez gave his 2IC a pat on the shoulder, promptly departing the troops’ room thereafter. 981 supposed its superior had the rest of the platoon to muster.
Schultz promptly gestured the unit to follow, and soon all were on their way to the armory.
Upon arriving, Schultz input his biometrics, the heavy doors of the armory hissing open. 981 could gradually see weapons neatly organized within the armory's spacious interior, as well as thirty EVA suits for surface activities.
“All right,” began the Leutnant. “Let’s suit up.”
981 observed the unit’s suit-up procedure. While Ethra-model androids did not need to ‘breathe’, oxygen was still necessary for the oxidization process of their onboard hydrogen fuel cells—and thus the android equipped its EVA suit accordingly. Schultz similarly suited up beside 981, magnetically holstering his P-11 Defensor sidearm to his hip as the final step.
Most fetched their TiM-86 Cuāuhcōātl caseless assault rifles, chambered in 4.73x33mm Commonwealth caliber. Buch and St. Onge, on the other hand, used weapons befitting their respective roles.
He retrieved his light machinegun, a variant of the Cuāuhcōātl—the TTl-91 Cuāuhocēlōtl, while St. Onge collected her MITl-77 Itzmitl, an anti-material rifle adequately fit for countering light armor.
“First day on this world and you’ll already be holding a rifle. I’ll admit, I’m a bit jealous,” Schultz remarked, looking to 981. “Are your combat protocols properly installed?”
981 ran a file verification in the background—no issues to report.
“Yes,” replied the android.
“Fetch yourself a Cuāuhcōātl and see how it feels in your hands,” Schultz directed, gesturing to a nearby weapons rack.
981 nodded, retrieving a TiM-86 Cuāuhcōātl from the shelf. Consulting pre-installed data beforehand, 981 noted that each magazine held fifty rounds of caseless ammunition. 981 inserted a magazine in the Cuāuhcōātl, slotting it in with a loud click.
Schultz looked on with care, as if quietly evaluating the aptitude of the android.
“How many magazines will I be needing?” 981 asked.
“We’re not expecting to see anything out there,” Schultz replied with a shrug. “just three mags should do well enough.”
981 retrieved three magazines accordingly, strapping the pouches to its body armor—Schultz seemed pleased by the android’s quick comprehension. Buch and Diago approached Schultz shortly after gathering their magazines, Acosta and St. Onge promptly following.
Menéndez returned, just as troops from the other squads were beginning to file into the armory. He did not delay in likewise suiting up, evaluating the platoon in its entirety once all were ready.
The Oberleutnant eventually nodded, promptly leading the platoon HQ troop topside thereafter. 981 suppressed something resembling anticipation—this would be its first glimpse of Apason’s surface, after all. |
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Post by IA on Dec 15, 2023 18:12:24 GMT
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⠀2 - To the Surface
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⠀Raumdrom Sabana Grande, Sabana Grande
⠀Apason Protectorate
⠀ United States of Novadieta
⠀January 11, 0120 R.C.
“I’ve already called for utility vehicles to be ready for us,” he explained. “No more delays once we reach topside.”
The elevator continued its steady ascent, eventually coming to a gentle halt. As soon as the doors opened, the unit hastily moved to board the six-wheeled utility vehicles arrayed within the enclosed hangar. 981 boarded one of the vehicles, accompanying Menéndez and the rest of the HQ unit.
St. Onge slipped into the driver's seat, Diago taking shotgun. Menéndez prompted the vehicle to depart thereafter. Before their departure, each of the vehicles stopped before an airlock preceding the exit ramp to the surface. Air was vacated from the chamber before the blast doors to the outside finally opened, leading them on to the frigid Apasonian surface.
981 studied its surroundings with utmost fascination, falling back upon pre-installed data where necessary. Compared to the busy subterranean sprawl the android had witnessed before, much of the topside facilities were either military fortifications or extensions of the Sabana Grande spaceport. Here and there, work crews clad in EVA suits attended to their usual duties, the passing of the convoy only warranting a few glances from the workmen.
981 could only assume a man like Menéndez knew Apason like the back of his hand. Schultz similarly appeared fairly accustomed, pointing out landmarks to 981 every now and then.
“That’s the San José crater,” Schultz pointed to a depression to their west, its surface dotted by a number of industrial facilities. “Methane rains tend to collect there, after which it is extracted and refined.”
“C’mon, Leutnant,” Buch protested. “You’re gonna bore the robot lady to death.”
“Do they even get bored?” questioned Acosta.
Schultz merely scoffed, while others chuckled at the exchange.
“It’s alright,” 981 insisted. “I would like to learn more about Apason’s surface. After all, I’m not sure where my pre-installed information ends and your hands-on experience begins.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” Schultz seemed pleased the android valued his commentary. Buch, on the other hand, gave a light shrug before reclining in his seat, tuning out the Leutnant’s guided tour.
981 took in Apason’s surface, looking on at the orange-tinged horizon. Though frigid, it was a welcome change from Sabana Grande's subterranean claustrophobia. Off in the distance, she could see the gas giant Phainon looming over a patchwork of faraway mountains.
“There it is... the largest planet in our solar system,” Schultz pointed towards Phainon. 981 quietly looked on with curiosity verging on awe as it processed the gas giant’s size. Menéndez eventually spoke, prompting 981 to face forward.
“Site should be coming up shortly... there it is; pull over St. Onge,” Menéndez instructed.
St. Onge promptly complied, halting the vehicle before a facility located by the side of the road. 981 could immediately make out a damaged dish array at the center of the communications facility.
Menéndez promptly exited the vehicle, Schultz following behind. 981 likewise followed, the rest of the platoon disembarking thereafter. The platoon quickly formed a cordon around the facility, securing the perimeter as the HQ unit approached the epicenter of the damages.
“Ho-ly shit..” Menéndez swore, looking up at the damaged array.
“That’ll be a few days of repairs, at least,” Schultz remarked.
“One day,” Menéndez corrected. “They know how much money’s at stake if this thing isn’t made operational as soon as possible.”
981 looked on at the damaged dish array, studying its extent. Its eyes moved downward, its analysis deducing a trajectory to the overall impact.
“What do you think did this?” asked Buch. “Some kind of meteorite?”
“Beats me...” Schultz shrugged..
Menéndez similarly scrutinized the trajectory 981 sought to discern. The android walked ahead with newfound intent, much to the surprise of its superior.
“981..?”
First, 981 approached the base of one of the dishes, looking straight up at the impact that’d rendered it inoperable. Then, the android studied an adjacent building, observing the damage to its rooftop. Menéndez followed 981 curiously, with Schultz tailing close behind.
Entering by the front, 981 stood waiting in the airlock.
“Warning... internal atmosphere unsafe. Structural breach likely,” an automated voice cautioned them, before disengaging the locks. 981 led the way in, stumbling upon two frozen corpses sprawled beside a hatch to the panic room.
The impact had shredded through the roof, piercing two floors before forming a crater in what’d once been a central office space. Through the breach, ice and tholins were readily falling in, beginning to form a veritable layer on the floor.
“These structures should be rated to withstand meteorite impacts,” Schultz skeptically observed.
981 approached the crater at the epicenter of the first floor, kneeling down to scan the impact site. Rather than the fleeting remains of a rock, the android saw something far more curious—
Tungsten.
“It was no meteorite, sir,” 981 concluded. “It was a kinetic sabot.”
Menéndez furrowed his brow, Schultz similarly scrutinizing the crater 981 pointed out. The rest of the HQ unit soon joined them in their investigation.
“What’d the robot find?” asked St. Onge. Buch similarly approached, Diago following shortly after. Acosta, on the other hand, lingered over the two frozen technicians’ bodies.
Menéndez suppressed dismay evident to 981, exhaling sharply, “She— It thinks this incident was deliberate... that whatever ripped through the comms array and snowed this place in was a kinetic sabot.”
“I estimate it to have been a 45mm projectile, fired from orbit,” 981 elaborated. “I speak with a ninety-seven point five-percent certainty.”
Menéndez was left perturbed by the android’s assessment.
Diago looked on at the crater 981 discerned with an incredulous skepticism, Buch similarly furrowing his brow at the metallic debris at the epicenter.
“If the android is correct in its assessment, then we’re due for a bad time,” Acosta said.
Schultz nodded in agreement, “Let’s radio our findings back to Sabana Grande.”
Menéndez approached 981, hooking his comms module up to the android’s long-range radio backpack. 981 tuned its receiver accordingly, awaiting the platoon commander’s transmission.
“Sabana Grande HQ, come in; this is C platoon HQ troop. We are at the spaceport’s comms array—site shows evidence suggesting a deliberate strike. Request immediate reinforcements and investigative units, over... Sabana Grande HQ, come in; this—”
981 could only process static coming in from the other end. Menéndez furrowed his brow in frustration. The soldiers looked at one another, equal parts perturbed and confused by the radio silence.
“Let’s get back to Sabana Grande,” Menéndez announced, keeping a stoic face in spite of their ordeal.
With nods from the broader unit, the team abandoned the derelict structure, linking up with the rest of the platoon before boarding their respective vehicles. St. Onge started the engines without further delay.
981 glanced at Menéndez, his expression visibly more stern than before. The others seemed to share his concern.
Schultz soon spoke, “Radio silence could mean a lot of things... in any case, it’s paramount we report our findings as soon as we reach the city.”
St. Onge picked up the pace, leading the convoy of vehicles along the rugged Apasonian backroads. As they drove, 981 scrutinized their surroundings with utmost vigilance.
The convoy eventually made its approach to Sabana Grande. As they did, it became incredibly clear something was wrong—though no fires could burn in Apason’s oxygen-free atmosphere, 981 could still see the impacts and damages all across the surface military fortifications.
“Those aren‘t ours,” Schultz remarked.
Military transport aircraft bearing Union State markings were situated across the tarmac, the distant silhouettes of EVA suit-clad infantry hastily unloading from the craft.
The situation immediately dawned on Menéndez, “Shit.”
Machinegun fire lit up the hazy, dense Apason air as Menéndez let loose the APC’s .50 caliber on the infantry outside, spraying armor-piercing rounds at the Union State infantry ahead. Five of the EVA suit-clad soldiers were cut down almost instantly, forcing others to scramble for whatever cover lay adjacent to them.
“Get us out of here, goddamnit!” the Oberleutnant shouted.
“I-I’m trying!” was all St. Onge could muster. The utility vehicles raced forward along the high-speed transit lane, proceeding into the hangar they departed from. An enemy machine gun returned fire, luminescent tracers ricocheting off the armored hull.
“Shit! Shit!” Diago cowered, finding a lucky round had pierced the vehicle, leaving a huge dent on the wall, not far from his head.
“Hang on!” The vehicle swerved sharply to the side before St. Onge slammed the brakes, bringing them to a halt inside the airlock. A few more rounds whizzed past, only to ping uselessly against the blast doors as they shut behind them.
The nitrogen-rich atmosphere of Apason’s surface quickly vacated from the chamber, replaced with breathable air before the second set of doors opened. St. Onge brought the vehicle to a stop within the hangar, the EVA suit-clad soldiers of the platoon hastily dismounting. For a moment, they could breathe.⠀--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
⠀3 - Battle of Sabana Grande
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⠀Raumdrom Sabana Grande, Sabana Grande
⠀Apason Protectorate
⠀ United States of Novadieta
⠀January 11, 0120 R.C.
“I... can’t believe this...” Schultz uttered under his breath.
“With how quickly they’ve managed to launch an airborne assault, I would be unsurprised if they’ve already got forces in Sabana Grande itself,” Menéndez bitterly noted. “It would seem 981’s assessment was on the mark. We’ll need to link up with garrison forces in the city, see what the situation is in there, first, and foremost.”
“I.. just hope my family’s okay,” murmured Acosta—he was the sole native Apasonian in the headquarters unit, among a handful in the broader platoon.
981 quietly studied his response. Though this was Novadietan soil to all of them, this place was uniquely home to him. 981 could, to a certain extent, understand the fear and pain going through him in the moment. Among the people in Sabana Grande were friends, family; the android was left to dwell on what importance that held to humans.
Menéndez drew his rifle, leading the group toward a service door adjacent to the elevator shaft. He gave the door a light push, allowing the other troops to enter. They descended the stairs with care, attempting to keep an open ear to their immediate surroundings.
After reaching the landing and ensuring it was clear, Menéndez led the group to a large service door preceding the entrance to Sabana Grande proper. Flanking it was a service station for surface-bound personnel, storing everything from engineering equipment to space suits. The moment offered them a temporarily interlude, to which the commander capitalized.
“Our EVA suits will be needlessly unwieldy in there,” Menéndez observed. “Ditch them.”
The troops hastily unpacked, leaving their suits behind. St. Onge forged ahead on her own, checking the control panel beside the large blast door.
“Lockdown protocols are active, sir,” She announced. “Something tells me there’s trouble.”
“Goddamn it...” Acosta’s expression remained grim.
Utilizing his biometrics, Menéndez disengaged the lock, prompting the service door to slide open.
One by one they filed in—981 was among the first to lead the way into Sabana Grande, following its superior as closely as he seemed comfortable with.
981 drew its assault rifle, consulting the layout of Sabana Grande for alternate routes to their destination. With its assessment ready, the Ethra model made a mental map of the facility, locating the optimal route.
“Sir, if I may,” said 981. “I could take point and lead us to our destination along an alternative path, saving us approximately six minutes—assuming we do not encounter hostile combatants en-route.”
“Very well,” Menéndez nodded, somewhat impressed by 981's initiative.
With its directive in mind, 981 darted down the service hall before taking a right—the rest of the unit soon kept pace with it, following the android closely. Alarms blared through the corridors of Sabana Grande, public service messages warning of the ongoing attack and urging all civilians to shelter in place.
At last, they stumbled upon one of the main concourses, giving them an immediate glimpse into the battle going on in the city. A platoon-strength detachment of Novadietan infantrymen held positions along the thoroughfare, exchanging fire with yet more Union State infantry.
A Novadietan soldier hurried over, 981 quickly recognizing him to be the lieutenant of the defending platoon. He quickly flagged Menéndez over, the officers making haste in their introductions.
“Thank God you showed up!” the officer exclaimed. “We’ve been fighting tooth and nail to keep this corridor secure, but the enemy is persistent. They came in through the metro system... a good amount of our forces were overwhelmed before we even knew it. The rest have hunkered down in the residential district—they can hold out for some time, I reckon—but I doubt their ammo stocks will last much longer than that."
The sound of an incoming rocket prompted the platoon lieutenant to break off their exchange—as the rocket passed, it careened into an adjacent shop, resulting in an explosion that sent shards of glass and synthetic tile hurtling in every which direction.
“...shit,” Schultz grimaced.
Menéndez seemed undeterred, “Schultz, get the rest of the platoon moving. I’ll be making a command center out of one of the shops... hopefully 981’s comms can reach someone higher up by now.”
With that, Menéndez cleared the way to an adjacent storefront.
“Sir,” Kneeling down, the android offered its superior access to its radio backpack.
“Right,” he nodded.
981 tuned its radio receiver while Menéndez brought the phone to his ear. At first there was nothing but static and a low, pulsing rumble—then, abruptly, 981 received something from Apason HQ.
The sound of small arms fire rose in the background, mixed with shouting and the faint clamor of heavy fighting.
“This is 24. Jägerbataillon headquarters, identify yourself!” a gruff voice demanded the identity of the contacting radio operator.
“Oberleutnant Carlos Menéndez, sir,” replied 981’s superior. “C platoon, 3rd company.”
“Menéndez? It’s a damn miracle you came back alive!” exclaimed the man on the other side of the call. “What's your SITREP?”
“We’ve made it back to Sabana Grande in one piece,” Menéndez explained. “Comms array was shot—though by now I take it that’s no surprise to you. What the hell is going on?”
“We’re being invaded, that’s what! The rest of the battalion is defending the garrison facility—get over here!”
“Sir,” 981 began. “Per my analysis of Sabana Grande’s layout, the enemy forces stand between us and the rest of 24. Jägerbataillon.”
The Oberleutnant gulped. “We’ll have to fight our way over there, sir.”
“Do what you must. Out.”
Menéndez hung up the call, and 981 looked up at him expectantly. “Sir?”
“Put your combat protocols to good use. Recover ammo where possible—we weren’t exactly packing with an engagement in mind when we ventured topside.”
981 nodded, and Menéndez gave it a pat on the shoulder, before rejoining Schultz and the troops.
The defenders held their line as well as could be expected, though the cacophony of small arms fire and accompanying din was deafening; it did not help that the corridors of the subterranean city served only to make each sound echo and reverberate in every direction.
Taking cover behind barricades, supply crates, and similar miscellany—some civilian and military dead had not even been cleared—the defenders were doing the best they could with a highly disadvantageous position. Bullets whizzed overhead, 981 clutching its Cuāuhcōātl with something resembling trepidation. One miscalculated peek and its existence could come to an end. Yet, understanding its orders, the android steeled itself, leaving the cover of its makeshift barricade and pulling down on the trigger for the first time in its service life.
Of the three burst-shots fired, two met their mark, dropping Union State soldiers further down the thoroughfare. Though this was the first time it shot to kill, its experience was comparable to that of a veteran soldier, as its movements were guided not solely by muscle memory but by pre-programmed combat prowess and decisionmaking.
As 981 let another salvo rain down, Schultz led a contingent of troops to press their attacks, taking positions to the left and right of 981. Following its commander's lead, the android similarly shifted itself to Menéndez’s left, lunging ahead with its rifle drawn. Apason’s gravity was a tenth of Plateia’s, the android’s maneuver smooth and effortless. It cut through the enemy line like a knife.
981 glided past one of the barriers, dispatching the closest Union State infantryman at contact range, sending blood and viscera weightlessly drifting through the microgravity. Its boot left contact with the floor and it continued, propelling through the hall, exchanging bursts with advancing Union State reinforcements.
981 dispensed death across the hall, dancing nimbly between sprays of fire. At last, it crashed through the facade of what’d once been a boutique, hurtling across the tile floor as glass was sent flying. Steadying itself with one hand, it aimed with the other, picking off a pair of infantrymen that advanced in pursuit.
Thrown into disarray, the enemy troops became easy pickings for the Novadietan forces. Menéndez advanced with his unit, mopping up the remainder of the enemy infantry.
The platoon took point, securing the area, while Menéndez’s attention shifted to the android. Briefly, he looked around, confused; then, looking 981’s way, he breathed a relieved sigh.
“Good to see you’re alright, 981,” said Menéndez. “I... didn’t know you were capable of moves like that.”
“The wellbeing of this unit is my priority, sir,” The android propped itself up, standing upright in its superior’s presence.
Menéndez chuckled, shaking his head in a wry mix of astonishment and relief. “This is some first day you’re having, 981. I.. wish I could have shown you around Sabana Grande under better circumstances.”
“I am learning adequately, sir.” The android answered with a light bow.
“No, no, it’s not that,” He trailed off, unsure of the proper words to use.
“Sir?” 981 tilted its head inquisitively.
Menéndez looked to be somewhere between regret and pity, “Just... do your best.”
Schultz hurried over. “We’re registering no further targets, sir. At the very least, this immediate area is secure.”
With the route temporarily secured, the Oberleutnant returned to the task at hand. “The garrison facility shouldn’t be far. Once we link up, we’ll have ourselves some proper orders.”
And so, Menéndez led his unit deeper into Sabana Grande. 981 remained conscious of its surroundings, glancing down corridors and around corners as they made their advance. The halls were lined with shops, now left derelict in the wake of the assault, leaving shattered glass facades and bullet-ridden walls in their wake. Abandoned childrens’ toys served as a poignant reminder to the android of the more devastating implications of their situation—and also what machines like itself were made to protect.
Rounding a corner, the macabre desolation was instantly replaced by plain, sterile walls. Ahead of a blast door, a unit of Novadietan troops held their position behind barricades. Cautiously, Menéndez hailed the security detail.
“C platoon, 3rd company, 24. Jägerbataillon,” the Oberleutnant announced.
“Ah. Major Richter and Frau Hauptmann Braun are waiting for you... come on in.” One soldier gestured to another, and soon the blast doors were sliding open.
“Major Konrad Richter is the commanding officer of 24. Jägerbataillon,” Menéndez explained. “He’s... not too trusting of machines like yourself, so just be aware of that going in. Then again, I’m sure there are more pressing issues at the moment...”
“The Major is no fun,” Buch chimed in.
“And Ingrid Braun is commanding officer of the 3rd company,” Schultz added. “That she’s here means at least some of our broader unit is intact.”
At the end of the service corridor, the troop was met with a wide corridor flanked by barracks on either side. In the center stood an elevator shaft leading to the central complex. Menéndez helped escort the platoon to the elevator, leaving 981 to follow from behind.
The metal doors slid shut, the car began its descent, and 981 faced its human comrades. Rather than exchanging banter, however, this was a solemn, quiet affair—after all, what had commenced was an outright invasion. The only reason that group would be making it down there was because of the heavy casualties it had suffered.
The elevator let off the atrium floor of the facility, a sprawling complex within Sabana Grande which served as the operational nexus for forces stationed in the city. 981 looked to the high ceiling with fascination—though knowledge of the facility had come pre-installed, the facility nonetheless lived up to its description and more. What 981 had seen when first meeting the unit had merely been the tip of the iceberg.
The soldiers within still seemed to be reeling from the events of the day. Medics occasionally passed the unit by, hauling the wounded down to the hospital floors of the complex.
Menéndez brought the troops down the passageway to the complex's western wing. With a few turns to boot, they were standing before the door to the 24. Jägerbataillon’s headquarters within the garrison complex.
“Schultz, 981, on me,” instructed Menéndez. “The rest of you can have a breather.”
The door unlocked with a hiss, 981 curiously tagging along behind Schultz and the Oberleutnant. They were led in, the doors locking shut behind them. Unlike the atrium, the battalion’s HQ was sparsely populated, with only two officers among a handful of logisticians attending to communications. Menéndez immediately saluted.
981 guessed easily enough that the man was 24. Jägerbataillon's hard-bitten commander. Beside him was Ingrid Braun, and both seemed to be in the middle of analyzing the glowing tac-map table before them.
“Took you long enough, Oberleutnant,” Richter said.
“Shooting our way here wasn't exactly swift, Major Richter.”
“But you came back alive, and that's what counts...” Braun held a pained frown. “...for now, at any rate.”
“Are you insinuating this is a futile battle?” Menéndez spoke gravely.
“Now, I didn't say that,” said the Frau Hauptmann. “A gambit like this is, realistically speaking, untenable. Time is on our side. If we drive them out of the city and reassert control over the runways on the surface, they’re back to square one. They’re here because they want to break us as soon as possible, rather than face a protracted conflict.”
“Braun’s other platoons are on standby—an attack on the facility was just repulsed,” Richter continued. “Now that you’re here, I can consider the 3rd company to be at full fighting capacity.”
“What about the other two companies?” asked 981, earning a scowl from the Major.
It would be Braun who answered the android. With a sigh, she put her hand to the tac-map, zooming in on a three-dimensional display of Sabana Grande’s layout. As she did, the trio approached for a closer look.
“They’re holed up in the residential district,” Braun explained. “The Major deployed them earlier to relieve other units in the immediate area—and to get civilians to safety.”
“And that’s where our company comes in?” Menéndez guessed.
“Precisely,” She nodded. “Your platoon and the others will head to the residential district and alleviate their situation. At the very least, the people of Sabana Grande will be a little safer.”
“Re-arm your unit,” Richter added. “You’ll need a lot more than a few measly mags if your men plan on surviving.”
Menéndez did not complain, swiftly taking heed of the senior officer. |
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