Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War (11 page)

All useless against the Niflheim.

Radiation is one of the most deadly things to man. It burns like a fire that stays and crawls into the body to swell and grow, until there is nothing left but a cancer-filled corpse. Anyone who survives is doomed to have children with crippling birth defects; their own life nothing but pain and disfigurement. Mutation in humans are almost always fatal — uncontrollable and to no end. It’s something that nobody wants to have and no country would want for its citizens.

As for the Niflheim, they lived on radiation and grew more powerful because of it.

Emich was in the middle of training when the news of the first nuclear missile being used, one that was dropped near his home city. Everything around the area was already gone and the Niflheim ETO didn’t have any countermeasures against an ICBM. At least, none that would
prevent
the nuclear attack. It hit with success, directly on the ETO’s Citadel — the very center tower that is surrounded by its four attached spires. Enveloped by a mushroom cloud, the results showed the ETO was partially destroyed.

Because of the radiation, it reconstructed itself and grew bigger, the Niflheim inside mutating more powerful as well. What was to be believed as a success only ended in catastrophic failure. The ERA learned their lesson and payed for their mistake dearly. Once the following Second Spear had to be ended the hard way, Northern America united with the fully destructed lower Americas to create the financially superior UA in 2341. The only thing that changed was now they owned the resources of the south, instead of having to buy them.

All of that land and all of those profitable goods were just a well made investment on the UA’s part.

Both Europe and South America were stuck in healing fresh wounds, leaving little for the war effort. The Trident War would have ended horribly if Sindri Corporation never came into the picture. Its new owner created a new version of the Beowulf Exoframe that could become mass produced and given to every soldier as a standard kit. Nobody knew how and nobody questioned it. Everyone just suited up their soldiers, gave them their training, and sent them off to fight the Niflheim on three fronts.

The front Emich was sent to was the homefront. It was the one he preferred. The final days of the Trident War were some of the hardest. It was a risk, but it was the only choice. Operation Thunder Gauntlet was a three way massive strike.

The plan was to attack the landed Yggdrasil ships from land, sea, and air. It would be the biggest single operation in the history of human warfare. Every active member across the globe participated. The last push. The one move that would decide if humans should be the dominant ones on Earth or not.

Master Sergeant Emich Aumeier checked his MBC3, already suited up and ready for action. The equipment rooms to store and repair Beowulf Exoframes took up more space than a normal soldier would, so each transport ship could only hold a small amount of Beowulfs. There were twelve in his VTOL. Twelve was the max amount of Exoframe soldiers possible — previously being fifty to sixty in the days before the Exoframe regulation. Because of the rush the ERA were in to get the VTOLs up in the sky as fast as possible, the people on the aircraft carrier he was on rushed to the nearest transport and filled in a slot. Nobody knew who the other one was or where they were from.

It was in the middle of nowhere and Norway was far from a tropical paradise. Fog swam down below within the plentiful sea of pine, the entire place nearly impossible for any vehicle to navigate through. The fjord connecting to the ocean, leading up to the ETO, was like a tunnel for the Merrow Marines swimming their way through the icy waters. No landing, no stopping. The only way was forward. Forward, through the one way path to the Niflheim filled shores.

Forward into the trees and mountains; an uphill climb that would leave any soldier–that wasn’t in an Exoframe–killed off before they even got out of the freezing water.

Gunboats pushed through the fog covered river, their mounted gattling cannons firing away at the Niflheim that entered their detection system. Trees fell, one after another, chopped down by the rapid gunfire that was strong enough to blow chunks of rock off of the mountain side with stray rounds. Beams of light gleamed from the forest, aiming at the approaching ships. The pointed top of the ETO’s west spire glowed a menacing red, clouds warping around it. The hundreds of prisms covering the spire’s entire exterior fired blinding red salvos, strange orbs of light that turned anything metal into a white hot liquid. Ships exploded and melted instantly, showering the underwater marines down below with huge pieces of quickly solidified metal chucks.

A lot of them never even saw battle before they were taken out by the destruction of an alley ship; the Niflheim taking out more ERA forces than they even realized.

Heavily armored vehicles were limited, most of them being MLRS or mobile artillery that parked themselves. Positioning themselves far away from the ETO, at the top of nearby mountains, they were able to rain down a constant barrage of rockets and missiles. From the fjord, the incoming Merrow marines could see the spires of the ETO being hit, the explosions and artillery fire echoing down the river. One of the spires split open at the top, most of it embedded into the neighboring mountainside, its brownish-red structure growing on the Earth like a plant root. From out of the southern spire, an endless swarm of crescent shaped interceptors–known as Sky Screamers–filled the air around the ETO.

The transport VTOLs were protected by jet fighter escorts, but they were certainly not invulnerable.

The loudspeaker in Emich’s room dinged, followed by an automated female voice. “GCB has been activated. Remain in the aircraft until further instructed.”

A strong thickness in the air meant they were doing some tricky maneuvers, the Gravitational Counterbalance stopping everyone and everything inside from tumbling around. Grey “petals” filled the clouds as Sky Screamers flew by, the shoot in their backs releasing them by the thousands. Fluttering and tumbling, they flew towards the VTOL with a mind of their own, buzzing like an angry hive of bees. Nearly having a Sky Screamer hit him head on, the pilot executed a swift barrel roll to the right, spinning the transport out of the way and leaving it flying slanted for a while to be ready with another maneuver; the jets on its wings positioning diagonally to continue its flight forward.

The jet fighters unveiled themselves, turning off their cloaking system. Seeing that the enemy was behind the transports now, a pack of jet fighter nearby fell into a glide, turning off their back engines. In a second, their cockpit slide to the back and spun around, the side wings flipping to face in the other direction. Firing up what used to be the frontal jets, the flying wings flew towards Niflheim aircraft to unload their missiles at them. The guns surrounding the transports all went off at once, locking onto the metallic petals that fluttered towards them; being used defensively and letting the interceptors handle the Sky Screamers.

Putting on his helmet and locking it in place, Emich grabbed his MBC3 and left his room. The pilot sat there next to him, rigged up in the flight sphere that surrounded him with controls and monitors. Death metal blasted from his personal speaker, filling his little bubble at the tip of the transport ship. The blank face of VALKYRIE floated above him, attaching the pilot to the rest of the transports flying in a V formation with them. They only needed a pilot to give human confirmation, the AI being the real controller of the ship.

As he walked, Emich gave two pounds to each room, the left side with his fist and the right side with the barrel of his long cannon. Doors opened after his knocks, the soldiers shouting and celebrating in anticipation. Most of it was in Russian, meaning his squad was going to be a pain to keep under control. Because of the way their boot camps trained their men, they were most commonly known as ERA Berserkers. High in numbers and even higher in combat efficiency, their only weakness was putting the leash back on after they were released.

He pounded the door to the last door on the left. “Out and about, soldier. Time for takeoff.”

There was no response from inside. Emich was about to head to the launch bay, but turned around when he didn’t hear the door squeak open.

He pounded on the door again, harder and making a louder clang. “It’s time to move out soldier! On the double!”

“Just a second, sir.”

Allowing himself in, Emich was in no mood for talk-back. “When I say it’s time to move out, you move out.”

The brunette was still sitting down in her cot and still in her black spandex undersuit. The front of her bob cut hung down, hiding her face as she messed around with the connector port under her right hip. The cybernetic leg she was fiddling around still had its panels opened, the wires and chips inside exposed. She wasn’t as muscular as the Russian girls in the group, her figure more similar to a ballerinas. Small, graceful, and elegant; someone that wasn’t made for war.

Seeing Emich was walking up to her, she gave him a flash of her blue eyes, practically glowing in the dim lighting of the room. “It’ll only be a wee bit longer. If my leg wasn’t being so stubborn, I would have been up by now.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Emich’s voice was suddenly softer, his face completely different and thankfully hidden behind the T-shaped visor of his helmet.

“Oh, nothing. It’s always acting up, that’s all.” An Irish accent was present in her voice, the way her tone rose and fell and she spoke.

Emich unhooked his helmet and set it on the ground as he went down to a knee; setting his gun against the wall. Pressing a button on his wrist screen, his metal gauntlets split open and bloomed backwards to free up his hands. Taking the leg from the female soldier, he looked it over and started moving parts around inside. With only a few moves and a twist of a wire, he slapped all of the panels closed and twisted the top end into the girl’s connector port. It beeped on, announcing that everything was working fine.

“Now get up and suit up.” He picked up his helmet and put it back on, his gauntlets flipping back into place — one half at a time. “We’re almost at the launch point and we’re not waiting for nobody.”

She got up and headed over to the Exoframe she had waiting for her in its maintenance tube. Stopping for a second, she couldn’t help but admire its fluid movement. “Say, it works like a charm. Were you a repair man in your civilian life?”

Emich picked up his gun, dragging it across the floor, unwillingly letting out a loud screech. “No... My mother had one.” He stopped himself from saying anything else, turning himself towards the door. “I want you ready for launch on the double. That’s an order.”

By the time Ashley Webber could turn around to position herself into the back half of the split open Beowulf, Emich was already gone. The fear was getting to her, the anticipation of the battle to be had. She looked down at her mechanical leg, forgetting all about being afraid. Taking a deep breath, she she settled down her burning rage and activated the repair dock to set her up. Hydraulics whirled as the top of the Exoframe lowered towards her, closing up the bulky metal suit.

Closing her eyes, she used the sounds of bolts being tightened into her Exoframe’s corner slots to drown out the screaming in her thoughts.

“Does anyone here know who the squad leader is? Anybody at all?” Dracul stopped another soldier as he was walking by. “Do you know who the SL is?”

“Nyet.”

Pushing him away, he looked over at the rest of the Russian soldiers. One of them had his speakers playing club music as loud as possible, everyone cheering and dancing around him like stiff robots in their Exoframes. Storming up to the crowd of dancers, Dracul punched his way through, connecting his fist with anyone’s face that was in his path. The one playing the music took a step back when he saw the German Sergeant was coming towards him. He tried to take Dracul with a swift forward kick, but only hand his leg grabbed instead. Lifting the Russian up by the leg, Dracul flipped him over, having the soldier land face down and shake the ship a little.

“I catch any of you messing around again and I’ll shoot you myself.” He took his cannon off of the holder hooks on his back. “Maybe I should shoot the DJ here to teach you guys a lesson.”

Emich got to the launch bay right when Dracul pointed his cannon at the prone soldier. “Do that and you’ll have to deal with me.”

Dracul glanced over his soldier, seeing Emich standing right behind him. “And who are you? His boyfriend?”

Emich lowered his head, looking down at the soldier. His Exoframe was covered with a black and gold iron cross on the front. At his waist was red leather half-skirt, heavily torn and charred. His armor was fixed with repair “scars” where parts were welded back together. Emich could only imagine Old Blood trooper had similar damage under the armor, due to his permanent war zone of a life.

That’s how the Old Blood were: made strictly for battle and nothing more.

“I’m the SL,” Emich stated. “I heard you were looking for me?”

Dracul put his cannon down, but his aggressive stance didn’t change. “Yeah, I’m looking for you. I just wanted to see who was going to give orders around here. I’d do it, but
somehow
you’re a higher rank than me.”

Emich could tell he was young, probably the same age as him. Joining the ERA Youth when he turned sixteen, he was able to see action during Second Spear; a practice that was only allowed during that state of panic the world. More time in the fight, more time to go up in the ranks. Especially at a time where spots got emptied out faster than ever. The ERA could never have too many officers when there was a war going on.

Emich didn’t answer. The less energy wasted, the better. There was no talking to an Old Blood. Their new age culture thrived on superiority and authority. Walking by Dracul without looking at him, he approached the group of Russians, the only music coming faintly from the cockpit all the way at the front of the transport.