Chương 13: Nova Wars - Chapter 12 - The Hard Way Home

"How can we dance when our sun is dying? How do we sleep while our worlds are burning? Ask not for whom the pyre burns, O Enemy mine. It burns for thee..." - fragment of Terran war dirge, as recorded by archivist: Nevyn'R Hetmwit stared at the holotank, reaching out and zooming in. He wasn't surprised that the frigate, designed for covert reconnaissance, already had high fidelity real time images of the planet. Scroll past the weirdly shaped park. Stop at the six by six blocks of parking garages.

Follow the maglev train line to the roundabout with the fountain. The image was sharpening as the frigate's computer systems went to work. Three blocks down. Two up. The hab. Sixty-eight stories of ferrorcrete and tile. The 'park' in the quad in front of the building. The parking lot in front of that full of vehicles from the investment broker two blocks down that had sued to wrest the parking lot away from the hab dwellers and for their sole use.

"There," Hetmwit said. He wrung his hands. Cars were burning in the parking lot. There were wrecked mass transit vehicles in the street. The far end of the hab was on fire. There were dead bodies in the quad.

"My momma," he said. There was silence and he looked up. Captain Decken was staring at him. A long moment passed and Hetmwit saw something pass in the depths of the Captain's eyes.

"Does your problem with being seen expand to any vehicle you are in?" the Captain asked. Hetmwit nodded.

"More than one autocar has gotten in accidents with me in it." The Captain stared at the holotank.

"Take a squad of robot Marines with you. Board the dropship. I'll drop you over the city," the Captain said. He was already punching in order on the holotank.

"Make for a least time landing, full power. Don't worry about irradiating the ground, our medical can fix it," he looked up.

"Go along, have the Marines protect the dropship. Take rescue cloaks, they're in Locker-Nine. Grab an emergency beacon, an aid pack, and a battlescreen projector. They're all in Locker-Nine."

"Computing microjump," Smiley said. The Captain stared at Hetmwit.

"Your unique ability to be forgotten might get you into that hab. Might protect your mother if you hustle her to the dropship," he looked back down.

"I'll provide orbital support from the Nell." Hetmwit swallowed.

"Thank you, Captain." The Captain just nodded.

"As soon as the microjump is complete, make it so," he tapped a few icons.

"We're not going in under stealth. We're going to announce ourselves."

"Microjump in progress," Smiley stated. The entire universe collapsed down to a pinpoint horizon and Hetmwit felt himself yanked toward it. Everything streaked around him and even though he didn't move it felt like he had been thrown forward. LET THIS WORLD SHAKE IN THE WRATH OF LOST TERRASOL! thundered out, vibrating Hetmwit's bone marrow.

"Go," the Captain ordered. He turned back to the holotank.

"All corvettes, drop pods. Mister Goofy, hand out the firing solutions. Mister Gallant, keep an eye out for any intruders." Hetmwit hurried out, running down the main corridor. He reached Locker-Nine, which was marked "EMERGENCY SURVIVAL LOCKER" and started grabbing what he had been ordered to get. A portable battlescreen projector, a medical kit, an emergency beacon, and rescue cloaks. He jammed them all into a hip bag, except the medikit, and pulled the straps for both the bag and the medikit over his head.

The Marines were waiting at the dropship for him. The side ramp lowered and the robots hustled in. Another robot, with googly-eyes on its head, lead the way into the cockpit. Hetmwit could feel the seconds pool away as the atmosphere was pumped out and the dropship lifted up on repulsers. The Nell suddenly swung around, ass toward the planet, and the robot pilot goosed the dropship. It shot out of the bay, clearing the battlescreens, and dove toward the planet.

Hetmwit could feel the G's pressing on him as the robot pilot ran for the surface with full thrusters. Twice the pilot rolled the ship, once in a looping corkscrew. Hetmwit could hear the flares and chaff launching and once the FWEEEEEK of an EMP burst designed to knock out enemy missiles. Proximity alarms, target lock alarms, and even the ground radar were screaming but the robot pilot coolly wove the dropship through it all. He's not going to make it, Captain Decken heard the woman whisper in his ear.

He won't make it and it will be your fault. He pushed the voice away. They had been getting louder. He could understand them now. He had been Born Whole, but the force overwrite had layered more than just the experiences with Hetmwit into his brain. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. PURGE THESE SCUM FROM REALITY!!! echoed in his brain, along with the images of firing a weapon straight into the face of screeching twisted creatures from beyond space and time.

He shoved them away and saw more.... his sister reaching out to him with one hand, his infant nephew held tight in her other arm, screaming, as the world turned white around her... A memory that he had pushed down, pushed away, to lead the assault on Anthill.... systems check on his black combine infantry armor and charging the beacon to <flash> appear on the sands of Wolf-359 and ANTS ANTS EVERYWHERE shoot shoot shoot kick and punch and scream and rage and rage and rage as Terra burns...

Captain Decken grabbed the edge of the holotank and squeezed. The memories rushed through him again, although he refused to close his eyes. He snapped out orders to the crew of the Nell, to the crews of the unnamed corvettes. One of the black scorched ships started to break up, pieces falling into atmosphere to burn up, as he kept the airspace over the city clear to prevent the ships from performing an orbital bombardment on it. He could see the small icon of the dropship rapidly sweeping down toward the surface.

One hand sought out the hilt of his Gerber Close Combat Dual Purpose System Cutting Bar Mark One, squeezing it tight as he snapped out orders for Corvette-Five to keep watch at the inner limit of Hellspace portals. He checked the status of Corvette-Six, which was sweeping around the stellar mass at a mere ten million kilometers, its sole remaining missile pod launcher dropping modified pods. The heat and slush on Corvette-Six was rising fast, but there was nothing that...

a girl he knew in school holding her infant close, bending over the infant, trying to protect it from the oncoming wave of energy and whispering her husband's name with her final breath so the infant would know the name of its father... could be done about it. The mission was too vital. His hand shook slightly as he shifted the icons and called out the orders to concentrate main gun batteries on Bogey-Nineteen.

He could see smaller ships, dropship and drop-pod sized falling from several of the ships making up Bogey-Nineteen and Bogey-Twenty-Seven, and targeted them. He ordered missile pods dropped as rapidly as the creation engines could fab them. One of the missile pod creation engines reported a failure. Diagnostics reported that a half-finished pod was lodged. He ordered the robots to clear it as rapidly as they could, checking on Hetmwit's status.

The First Officer was a third of the way to the ground, the dropship moving at nearly MACH-12, dropping flares, chaffs, EM drones and decoys. Captain Decken reached out for the... tackling the Mantid warrior, stabbing stabbing stabbing with a broken piece of crysteel, rolling around in the red sand of Mars, breathing mask torn free but nobody cares all there is is stab and stab and stab... icons with a shaking hand, pushing away the visions, the memories.

His own voice roaring with rage in his ear even as her voice whispered in his ear that Around him the dwellerspawn squealed as the holy rounds, Remington 25mm APDSWSAM-T rounds blew huge hunks of flesh into ashen vapor. He kicked one out of the way, ripped its brother in twain with his chainsword, and short a fourth in face with his SMG at point blank range.

he made a mistake and now these small people soft and warm and soft and warm and this is yummy and this is good and this is icky and this is yucky warm podling smart podling clever podling brave podling would pay for his incompetence because where was he when she had needed him? Where was he when his family had needed him? Where was he?

Decken grabbed the bar around the holotank and squeezed, the power of the grip of his Pontiac Gravestomper IX Individual Powered Protective Equipment System warping the chromium battlesteel bar like it was warm salt-water taffy. He closed his eyes for a second to gather his... slapping an insect as long as his arm away, the chainsaw's motlen warsteel teeth ripping and chewing it up... thoughts and focus himself.

When Hetmwit had done a force overwrite of his SUDS, it had not only merged his emergency captain's record with what he had experienced on the DJ's Ice Cream Locker, but it had also merged his SUDS record with another. His own. He still lived. Still fought. Still unleashed his wrath upon an uncaring malevolent universe. He knew he had taken another name, beneath the banner of the Dark Crusade of Light. That he had worn that name for thousands of years as he carried the wrath of murdered TerraSol in his heart.

That he had eventually given up the bridge of warships in order to bring his wrath and anger into the very face of the enemy.... a larger one, larger than his power armor encased bulk, rushed up on him, bladearms scrabbling against his chest pauldrons even as he pulled the trigger on his SMG to blow the creature's back across the one behind it... He opened his eyes. Hetmwit was almost down. He shuddered as she whispered in his ears again. save them or what good are you?

Hetmwit held tight to the 'oh shit' bar as the dropship suddenly heeled up like a frightened horse, the nose swinging a one hundred degree arc. The engines howled and Hetmwit felt like his stomachs had dropped through the bottom of the seat and that his head was being pushed down into his chest cavity. The dropship slammed to the ground. Outside, the parking lot was burning.

The dropships slamming descent had thrown twisted and shattered cars around it in a torus, the mangled vehicles burning with black sooty smoke. The quad in front of the hab was full of dead bodies, wrecked vehicles. Part of the hab was burning. The half opposite of where his mother lived. Despite the terror, despite part of his brain gibbering in fear and running in circles screaming, his hand reached up and hit the emergency release on the five point harness.

It retracted with a metallic clatter, but Hetmwit was already on his feet. His armored boot steps thudded on the deck plating as he sprinted for the back ramp. The robotic Marines had already exited and were in a semi-circle, aiming their weapons and scanning the skies and ground around them. Hetmwit ran around the dropship, ignoring that the robots were already fighting with what looked like burnt and smouldering power armor.

The dropship's guns were firing, providing fire support to the robots as Hetmwit sprinted across the parking lot. One hand on the railing, he vaulted over the separator and sprinted across the eight lane road. A robot ignored him, nearly knocking him down as it advanced on two Planetary Defense tanks, but Hetmwit managed to keep his balance and keep moving forward.

It isn't how hard you can hit, it's how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward, the words of the ancient Terran gladiator from the documentary echoed in his head. Hetmwit ducked under a brace of particle beams were fired from the tanks at the smouldering robots. Two of the robots went down, shedding burning charcoal, and began to crumble. The other eight concentrated beams of purple with cores of orange fire on the tanks. Hetmwit jumped over bodies he tried his best not to recognize.

An explosion almost knocked him down and he stumbled as he went up the steps. He didn't bother trying to open the door, he just crashed through it, trusting in his armor's enhanced strength and protection. The smartglass shattered around him and he stumbled for a step or two before he hit the stairs and pounded up them. Thirty flights to go. The Nell's guns were hammering, the recoil making the entire ship shake as Decken maneuvered his tiny flotilla to keep the city's airspace clear.

He had been joined by ships from the planet, that had recognized he wasn't another foe. Several had already died in volleys that the Nell's shields had shrugged. You are witnessed, Decken thought to himself. but you failed them just like you failed all of us, the grave cold voice whispered from behind him. He ignored the voices, concentrating on defending the city's airspace even while he kept an eye on Corvette-Five's telemetry and Corvette-Six's progress. Just one more hour.

I just need to buy this system one more hour, he thought.