Nova Wars

HEAVY METAL IS HERE announces the arrival of the might of the Confederacy. Other participants to past wars have announcements of their own, from the arrogant, sibilant you belong to us of the Atrekna, self proclaimed Lords of Time, to the psyche shattering scream of THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONE of the Precursor Autonomous War Machines, to the violent declaration ALL BELONGS TO THE HIVE of the ancient Mantid, these announcements are warnings, weapons, and declarations of intent. They inspire terror and despair in all who hear them.

The Confederacy, and especially Terrans, raise their arms, blade-arms and wings to these invaders and scream back in their faces DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!, EAT A DICK!, or COME AND GET SOME!. Races of the Confederacy may wince or stagger at an announcement loud enough, but they will not yield, will not give up as easily as the enemy always expects them to. HEAVY METAL IS HERE! brings life back to those who give in, gives hope to those who thought all was lost, inspire the victims of the enemy’s scream to rebellion and defiance.

But there is more that lurks in the dark. The Black Fleet relays the declaration of the Eye of Gorthaur, THERE IS NO LIFE IN THE VOID. The legendary dread vessels of the Dark Crusade of Light, from the Steamboat Willy, to the Missouri, to the Bismarck, Hood and Kaga, announce their names upon arrival. The Immortals, the biological apostles of the Digital Omnimessiah, both second and first, arrive with chilling battle cries. Enraged Phillip arrives to battle with a command: LET THIS WORLD SHAKE IN THE RAGE OF LOST TERRASOL! Warfather Vuxten, in the short time he answered the prayers before setting aside the mantle, roars at the enemy NO MORE PODLING BLOOD! Bellona the Grave-Bound Beauty, Legion of the Fleet of One, Menhit the Singer, Green Thomas, all announce their arrival one way or another.

But the ones heard before, that live on in memories of ancient pasts, while chilling and mind-breaking, are just that: heard before. It is the new screams that truly bring fear and despair, even to the Confederacy and its allies. It is the new screams that make the races of the Confederacy shudder and close their eyes.

‘Ware the new screams, for it means the Black Fleet has gained another blasphemous and twisted ship.

A new captain has been brought into the fold, to bring rack and ruin to the enemies of the Confederacy.

Catch These Catching Hands, Sucker arrives with a new scream…

DEATH METAL IS HERE! - Excerpt from: Be Not Afraid: A History of Arrival Announcements, Author: Mantid Professor Shares Knowledge to the Uninformed, Post nth Mar-gite War

Field Captain Strechen, Means of the Way Intelligence Direct Action Services, stood by the wall with the other Means of the Way enforcers. Where the others hand their hands clasped in front of them and were standing at a rigid posture with their heads tilted up slightly, Strechen was leaning against the wall, hands in her pockets, head lowered to watch the two males at the table.

One, Senior Experimenter Hrekkel, was larger than most males by at least a head. His body was thicker and he had scars on his face. Behind him stood the largest Dra.Falten Strechen had ever seen. A female Way of the Means Enforcer that stood two heads taller than the tallest female in the room, with heavy muscle and softly glowing green cybereyes. The female had set aside the customary pistol and stun baton that most enforcers carried and was carrying a heavy, blocky magnetic acceleration submachinegun.

Next to Hrekkel, staring at the table, was the slightly scruffy looking male she had escorted from the front lines of a contested world to this ship.

The Way of the Means referred to him as Male-9912743.

we cease to exist whispered in her mind.

She had first heard of him as Rifleman Second Class Tawtchee-9912743.

He had carried her through a "Dommy" ambush, then led her to the Massive Active Operations Base so that she could load him onto a ship and bring him to whomever had requested him.

Now, Tawtchee dug in his breast pocket, pulling out a pack of self-lighting Treana'ad smoke sticks. She could see the BobCo logo on the side from where she was standing.

Several of the Way of the Means agents shuffled in annoyance and outrage as he pulled one out of the conical pack and puffed on it while he put the pack away. It lit up and he exhaled blue smoke into the holotank, making it flicker for a moment.

"The next guardian must be approached with the gift from the previous guardian," Hrekkel was saying. "The baskets of fruit have been put in cold storage."

"Do we know anything about the next guardian?" Tawtchee asked.

Strechen saw one of the Senior Special Active Task Agents shift slightly, her face showing anger at the fact that the two males were not consulting anyone but each other and the holotank's database.

The big female looked at the female that had shifted, her eyes going from a softly glowing green to a cold amber light as she changed the color of the cybernetic implants.

The Senior Special Active Task Agent went back to looking at the ceiling and the big female's eyes turned green again.

"No," Hrekkel said. "Intelligence suggests that the Grenklakail Empire managed to not only reach the guardian but discover the next step, so it can be done."

Tawtchee nodded. "Politeness, above all else," he said. He exhaled smoke again, this time toward the ceiling. "I believe that the Terran was much more dangerous than anyone even suspects."

Hrekkel nodded. "The pattern of lakes around the orchards was consistent with diverted directed energy attacks from orbit that had their power massive attenuated."

Tawtchee just reached out and tapped the map, bringing up the location of "Magnus Oathsworn" and his little cabin. He traced the line of lakes.

"Keeper of the World Engine Key," Tawtchee murmured. He frowned for a moment, then moved over to an empty area of the holotank. He brought up a window and started going through menus that featured the BobCo logo prominently.

"Something?" Hrekkel asked.

Tawtchee just grunted, moving through the menus. Strechen could see that he was looking at advertisements by the nearly unstoppable megacorporation that had been making steady inroads into Dra.Falten society for years.

"Here," Tawtchee said, stepping back.

Strechen could see it was an advertisement for "Live Action Role Playing". The same kind of system that had completely destroyed a Dra.Falten exploration and scientific recovery team.

Hrekkel moved over and read the advertisement then nodded slowly.

"Empire of the Ageless uses three dedicated world engines to ensure full world coverage and reduce server loads," Hrekkel said softly. He tapped one of the icons. "World Engine: Construct maintaining weather and ecology, providing nanite and picate support for full sensory simulation in a live action environment. Combined with world engine satellite support, a world engine provides all a valued customer needs for a wondrous experience."

Hrekkel stepped back, closing his eyes for a moment. "Magnus Oathsworn possessed the keys to such a device by his own words. That means the weather, the ecology, everything was his to command. The wind, the water, everything."

"And satellites," Tawtchee said.

"No satellites were detected," one of the Senior Special Agents blurted out.

"Silence, fool," the large female snapped, her eyes flashing to amber. "Just because our sensors and eyes are blind to something does not mean it does not exist and does not mean it cannot kill your fool self. Keep your tongue in your closed mouth lest I rip it out."

The Senior Special Agent bruxed her teeth in anxiety and went back to looking at the ceiling.

The male, Hrekkel, moved over and began running his claws down the back of the large female's uniform.

Her eyes went to bright green, then soft green.

Tawtchee kept staring at the holotank.

"Magnus warned us that the next guardian is extremely dangerous," Tawtchee said. "He laughingly told me that the two of them on the same world would be a bad thing," he took a long drag off the smokestick, staring at the holotank. "He told me the next guardian is dangerous and to respect her."

Tawtchee tapped the holotank again, bringing up artist concepts of what living female Terrors looked like. He adjusted the brown skin to be pale pinkish, the black hair to be gold. "This is what she may look like," he said. He tapped a few more keys, overlaying the nude body with a pair of leather pants, a white linen shirt with elbow length sleeves, and a pair of boots. "If she dressed like Magnus, this is how she will look."

Tawtchee tapped a few more keys then moved data in one window to the window with the Terror. Her outfit was replaced by a dress that covered her feet, a bonnet, and jewelry. "She may also appear like this. Standard beginner outfit for females in Empire of the Ageless."

Nodding, Hrekkel stared at the image.

"A living Terran. A figure of myth and legend," he said softly. "I can't wait to meet her."

"Because it went so well with the Detainee?" the large female asked.

The scientist nodded again, brushing at his whiskers.

Strechen noted he only had three whiskers on the right side of his nose instead of the standard four, an irregular shaped circular scar where the whisker should have been.

"All right," Hrekkel said. "Any other suggestions for when we come out of transit space?"

"The dropship," Tawtchee said.

"What about it?" Hrekkel asked.

"Physically disconnect the transponder. Put it on a mechanical switch. Disconnect all communications systems. The only signal that it should put out is short range analogue VHF and a single system, strapped in, that connects to a low orbit satellite that connects to a single air-gapped system on the ship," Tawtchee said. He reached back and touched his lower back. "The only reason they didn't destroy the dropship we used was because the com system was fried."

"I'll make sure it happens," Hrekkel said.

"Other than that? We go without weapons. Nothing we can carry will impress the guardian. If Magnus warned us of her, with his obvious power, then the weapons are nothing more than something for her to mark our graves with if she decides that we will die," Tawtchee said.

"I'll ensure it," Hrekkel said as the large female nodded in agreement with Tawtchee's words.

-----

Strechen answered the knock on the door, seeing the small male, Tawtchee, standing in the corridor.

"Come in," she said, waving her hand. "Pardon the cramped quarters."

Tawtchee gave a sardonic grunt/chuckle. "I have a bed that I cannot straighten out in with a curtain. The only good part is I do not share it with others. This? This is luxury."

we cease to exist

Strechen didn't say anything, just moved one of the chairs so it faced the chair by the desk, then sat down in the chair she had moved. She motioned at the chair in front of the desk. "Please, sit."

Tawtchee narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but sat down anyway.

"Is this the part where you yell at me and threaten to summarily execute me for my impertinence at the planning session?" Tawtchee asked, digging in the chest pocket of his uniform top.

"No," Strechen said. She cocked her head. "Did someone else?"

Tawtchee just shrugged. "Just three of the Way of the Means."

"I'll handle it, give me their names," Strechen said.

Tawtchee shook his head. "It's just a normal Tuesday, Captain," he pulled a smokestick out of the conical pack and stuck it between his front teeth, puffing on it as he put the pack away. "Nothing to be excited about."

Strechen bruxed her back teeth for a moment in agitation, then took a deep breath and exhaled away her irritation.

The small male had been threatened so many times that new threats had no weight to him.

they dump the sample into the incinerator and we cease to exist

"I wish to ask you about something," she said.

"Why Hrekkel listens to me," Tawtchee said.

His scores would have put him in the science caste if not for a military conscription draw

Strechen nodded.

"I dragged him to the last transport, almost got him there, before a robot broke my back," Tawtchee said. He shrugged. "He then dragged me aboard the transport. We were even as far as I was concerned. He believes differently."

"That cannot be it," Strechen said.

Tawtchee sighed and looked at the desk. He tapped the faux-wood and brought up the holoemitter. He tapped a few icons and leaned back.

The comlink chimed three times before it was picked up.

"Tawtchee?" the scientist had on a pair of engineering goggles.

"Do you still have that old video?" Tawtchee asked.

"Of course. I used it as proof as why I wanted you," the scientist said.

"Can you toss it to this terminal?" Tawtchee reached up and ran his claws through the fur at the top of his head.

"She wishes to see the event," it wasn't a question.

"She seeks to understand what I don't," Tawtchee admitted.

"Why you."

Tawtchee nodded.

"Thirty-three scientists, including me, owe you their lives because of your actions," Hrekkel said.

There was a pinging from the desk and "FILE RECEIVED - SCANNED - SAFE" floated above the fake wood.

"Perhaps you will see what is so clear to me," Hrekkel said just before cutting the link.

Tawtchee just shook his head. "The clarity is for shit. It's off my helmet cam and comp," he said. He sighed, running his hand through his fur again. "It's dark and raining with thunder and lightning. You won't be able to see much."

Strechen moved the chair up and tapped the file icon hovering above the desk. It opened and a player manifested above the surface of the desk.

FILE FOOTAGE COMPILATION - INCIDENT 81476AV46C - SECURITY LEVEL VERMILLION

The picture flickered and stabilized.

It was the inside of a building. The glass in the windows was shattered, rain was blowing in to scatter plas sheets and papers around. The door had a single chair in front of it and Strechen could tell it wouldn't do anything to stop someone from opening the door. There was a flash of light outside the window followed by the roar of close by thunder. There was whimpering sounds, crying, and the sound of heavy rain.

"We're going to die," a female said.

"I don't want to die," a male said.

There was the shriek of laser weaponry and the detonation of a grenade nearby. The door handle rattled and one of the females in the room screamed, grabbing the end of her muzzle to silence herself.

"IMPERIAL TROOPER! OPEN UP! I'M HERE TO GET YOU OUT!" sounded out.

Two females, both in scientific uniforms, and a male scrabbled to move the chair and unlock the door.

Tawtchee stood on the other side, looking much younger. He held a heavy laser cannon, the strap across his shoulder plate keeping the heavy weapon stable. He had on a helmet that had a charred and melted spot on one side and his chest plate was slagged and scorched in several places.

"Never seen it from this angle," Tawtchee said softly.

"Let's go, you're it," Tawtchee said.

"Where's your backup?" a large female in a Way of the Means Senior Agent uniform asked.

"Dead," Tawtchee said. He turned around. "Follow. Keep up. Try to stay silent."

"What is happening?" the Senior Agent asked.

"Some idiot woke up a bunch of Terror robots. They're killing everyone who isn't a colonist," Tawtchee said, already moving down the hallway. "They've rounded up the colonists and are telling them not to resist, that they are being rescued."

"That makes..." the Senior Agent started to say.

"I said: shut the fuck up," Tawtchee snarled, turning around. Pressure on the trigger made the venting slots on the forward third of the thick barrel light up with an amber light. "I will waste your ass right here," he looked at the cringing scientists. "The scientists are my mission."

The Senior Agent started to reach down to her holster, realized it was empty, and followed the scientists that had rushed by her to follow Tawtchee.

Strechen could see that his backplate was damaged in multiple spots, the center of the plate nothing more than carbonized polycarbonite laminate and slagged alloys.

The view stayed the same as Tawtchee, a Junior Rifleman Seventh Class, led them to a heavy door that had been torn off the hinges.

"Crouch or a robot will blow your fool head off," Tawtchee snarled.

The scientists and even the Way of the Means Senior Agent crouched down.

The lot outside had burning vehicles, other small portable temporary buildings that were on fire, and craters from explosive blasts.

Tawtchee glanced out, pulling back in and ducking at the same time.

Nothing happened.

Someone started shooting even as voices started screaming.

"Dammit, there goes Delta Team," Tawtchee cursed. He looked out the door again, then back at the scientists. "OK. Go right when you go out, get as close as you can to the burning truck, as hot as you can stand it. Run along the line of burning vehicles. Move between the two burning cargo trucks," he closed his eyes. "Hold your breath during that," he glanced out. "There's a hole in the security wall where either side is on fire, run through that and into the woods. Run fifty paces and stop."

"Why?" the Senior Agent asked.

"The heat seems to mess up their vision. Maybe they run off of infrared or other thermal vision at night," Tawtchee said. He heaved a deep breath. "When you stop in the woods, crouch down in a clump of the purple ferns. They have a high metal content, they should shield you. Wait for me."

"What if you get killed?" a scientist asked.

"Then you're next," Tawtchee said. He checked the heavy laser cannon and then moved slightly. "Go!"

Strechen had to admire the bravery of the first two male scientists who ran out.

She wasn't sure she could have ran out into that nightmare.

Laser bolts, purple with white cores, started pocking into the wall as the scientists ran out.

Tawtchee just turned, grabbing a hold on the forward part of the sling, bracing the energy ammo canister against his hip, and fired back. The weapon in his hands shrieked compared to the cracking boom of the purple bolts.

"RUN, DUMBASSES!" he yelled out.

The Way of the Means ran out next, ahead of two scientists.

"Feel it, feel it," Tawtchee was snarling.

"Last one!" a scientist said.

Strechen realized it was Hrekkel, who looked thirty years younger.

Tawtchee switched from aimed to just laying down suppressing fire even as he started to move in the direction that the scientists had run.

The viewpoint changed.

Junior Rifleman Seventh Class Tawtchee-9912743 was in the upper right.

"This is what I remember some nights," Tawtchee said. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a can of fizzybrew, twisting the top off and taking a long drink.

The robots looked like skeletal Terrors, black metal, red eyes, all of them carrying rifles.

Strechen noted that they had white enameled teeth and their jaws were chattering.

The robots were taking hits, flashes erupting only inches from them for the first half second then the heavy laser bolts hitting solid but having no apparent effect at first. Then the robot would start jerking as the laser superheated small chunks of their armor, causing it to blow off of the robot due to the temperature differential.

"Feel it, feel it," Tawtchee was growlling.

He glanced back in time to see the Way of the Means officer run between two burning trucks.

The viewpoint shifted slightly and Strechen realized he was firing the heavy laser cannon with one hand.

"EAT THIS!" Tawtchee yelled, throwing a canister.

He turned and started running, stumbling as a loud KA-RACK sounded out.

ARMOR DEPLETED - LEFT ARM

SEVERE FRACTURE - LEFT ARM

SEVERE BURN - LEFT ARM

Tawtchee was panting, loud gasps, as he stumbled/ran for the gap between the two trucks. Purple bolts were flashing around him, missing him by a wider margin as he got closer to the burning vehicles.

A purple bolt slammed into the front of the heavy laser cannon, blowing it apart, sending Tawtchee tumbling to the ground.

SKULL FRACTURE DETECTED

With a groaning bellow of pain he got up, slapping the quick release buckle on the laser cannon, and ran for the gap between the trucks.

Another bolt hit with a loud crack and Tawtchee's head jerked to the right but he kept running.

"I went blind in one eye right there," Tawtchee said conversationally.

He ran for the gap in the wall, ducking down and scooping a standard laser rifle off of the ground, yanking it free of the death grip of the trooper holding it. He was staggering as he ran, making it through the gap, glancing back.

The purple bolts were hammering into the burning trucks.

The viewpoint switched again, showing Tawtchee running into the forest.

"I don't want to die I don't want to die I don't want to die" someone was crying in a high pitched voice.

"We need to hurry, we have almost five miles to go and they'll be done destroying your forward scientific base soon," Tawtchee said.

Strechen noted that the side of his helmet had a chunk taken out of it, showing the inner kinetic shock pad, which was crystallized from heat. The whole side of his face, the fur was scorched and singed. His upper left arm looked like burnt meat.

But he was still holding the forward part of the rifle with his left hand.

The view went into fast forward, speeding through the run through the forest and where several times Tawtchee made everyone hide in the bushes, pushing them in if he had to.

The dropship came into view. Dark, the flashers warning of inoperative machinery dark.

"Get on board," Tawtchee ordered.

"How?" one of the scientists asked.

"Should be a pilot on board," Tawtchee said. "I sent him ahead."

The Senior Agent moved up and hammered on the side door, pleading for it to open up.

"The back ramp," Tawtchee said.

His left eye was swollen shut.

The group started moving for the back ramp when the lead two scientists screamed.

The view switched to Tawtchee's helmet.

"GET ON!" Tawtchee yelled, pushing between them. He knelt down, firing the rifle, which started beeping the moment he pulled the trigger.

Strechen knew it meant low ammo.

The way the robot moved made the hair down Strechen's back raise up. It dropped on all fours, bounding forward, leaping up onto trees, twisting so it dug in mechanical fingers and toes, before launching forward to another tree or down to the ground.

It was easily dodging Tawtchee's fire. Three times Tawtchee shot out the tree, making the robot change course.

"Come on, come on," Tawtchee said, switching to rapid fire. "Feel it, feel it."

The robot didn't seem to care about the bolts that hit it, still bounding forward.

The weapon stopped firing, emitting a loud tone.

"Oh no," Tawtchee said.

"We're on!" someone yelled.

Tawtchee turned to run and suddenly was airborne, flying to the side, away from the dropship.

SPINAL FRACTURES DETECTED appeared in the view.

He hit, rolled, ending up on his back, the rifle spinning away.

The robot lunged into view, straddling Tawtchee, one hand drawn back, two fingers pointed forward.

Strechen knew it was going to drive those fingers through Tawtchee's skull.

"Don't hurt them," Tawtchee said.

Strechen realized he was weeping.

"Don't hurt them," Tawtchee repeated.

The robot was still, rain falling down, running off of the black skull.

"They're civilians. They're just scientists," Tawtchee said. "They just needed my help to get to the dropship."

The robot was still unmoving. The only sound was Tawtchee's sobs and the rain plinking off the metal of the robot.

"Please, don't hurt them," Tawtchee said. "I'm just trying to help them get away."

"Ged ta daw chaw-pah," the robot said, its jaws chattering.

"Don't hurt them, please, they're just civilians," Tawtchee was crying.

The robot suddenly vanished.

"No. Please. Don't hurt them!" Tawtchee called out weakly. "Please. Don't hurt them."

There was silence for long minutes, broken only by Tawtchee's sobbing.

Hrekkel's face appeared.

"Are you alive?" the scientist asked.

"No," Tawtchee wept. "I wish I couldn't feel my legs, I think they're on fire."

Hrekkel glanced down. "We'll talk about that later."

Hrekkel moved over, bending down, and Strechen knew the small scientist was grabbing the pull-strap on the back of Tawtchee's harness. Tawtchee's vision moved around almost bonelessly, scanning the trees, the stars, showing Hrekkel pulling him through the dark and the rain.

"I can't feel my legs any more," Tawtchee said softly. "Nothing below like my belly button."

"The pilot's dead," Hrekkel said. He looked back. "Almost there."

"I can engage the auto-pilot. He showed me how," Tawtchee said. He gave another sob. "Damn you, Veracal, I told you to keep the ship buttoned up."

Hrekkel dragged Tawtchee onto the ship.

"Get me to the copilot's seat," Tawtchee said.

"Can you even see?" Hrekkel asked.

"Good enough," Tawtchee said.

The view kept swinging around as Hrekkel pulled Tawtchee into the copilot's seat and buckled him in.

A glance at the pilot showed Strechen Pilot Fifth Class Veracal - 7751361 - DECEASED - REMAINS CATALOGUED

we cease to exist

slumped down in the seat.

His head was missing from the neck.

Tawtchee touched a few buttons.

"Autopilot engaged. State destination," the computer said.

The video ended.

Strechen sat silently for a long moment.

She looked at Tawtchee.

"Now you know," the male said.