Invasion Wars 1: Crimes of War (8 page)

Harold Marr almost didn’t let Demeitri finish his sentence before he gave him his answer. “I will direct war funds towards this new Exoframe of yours, but only
if
I have full authority of its use and intentions.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, commander.”

“I’ve had enough of this nonsense,” Childebrand shouted. It was followed by the sound of him inhaling into an oxygen mask. “He’s up to something. I know he is! Trusting a foreigner with national defense is a death sentence!”

Demeitri smiled, unashamed to show it now. “Accusations without evidence, Childebrand. You know how it goes. Nothing is approved unless it is given with proof.”

“Correct,” Harold stated flatly. “Now that we have the Niflheim defense decided, we will go to the matter of NDA supported terrorism.”

“Pardon me, commander,” Demeitri interrupted during the pause, “but I have business to attend to. I am not needed any further, so I will be seeing myself out.”

Seeing the quick nod from her boss, Valerie disconnected her wrist unit from the holoshpere, ending the connection instantly. “I’m glad Commander Marr was on your side today.”

Demeitri ran a hand through his chestnut hair; his hair being long on one side and tucked behind his ear on the other. “He has to be on my side, Val. I’m the only thing keeping him in business.” Knocking his head back to exhaling deeply, he took a second to relax his racing brain. “Now all I have to do is find a way to make my Siegfried-Class Exoframe a reality…”

“Speaking of such, they are running test as we speak. Would you like to watch or should I advance an appointment on your schedule?”

“I’ll watch.” He reached out to hold her hand, a routine he’s done with her ever since he hired her. “You are my good luck charm, so you must come along. Let’s get to it, shall we?”

She took it, her face as stiff as ever, and led him to the launchpad on the roof of their skyscraper in the Arctic Circle.

.  .  .

Designed during Second Spear, the Beowulf-Class Exoframe started out as an exclusive for the best soldiers — ranked staff sergeant or above. Its production was limited and the extra training needed to control the suits was seen as “more trouble than it was worth”. With the start of the Trident War right after, as well as the introduction to the Beowulf Mk II, it was required by all land-based infantry by both the UAM and the ERA. It was the only weapon capable to efficiently battle the Niflheim, without resorting to primitive carpet bombing tactics. Whoever wore the Beowulf Exoframe was turned into the equivalent of a man-sized tank.

Two Beowulf-modeled drones rose out of the ground, standing on individual platforms that brought them to the battle arena. The T-shaped visor on their helmets glowed a deep red; the suits now activated and ready to move. Unhooking from their recharging stations, they stretched out, the joints and moving parts all clanking and clicking as they adjusted for full maneuverability. Equipping their MBC3s, they dropped into a crouch in unison, right away heading for the nearest cover. The massive room was filled with concrete walls and shipping containers, creating a maze of different places to fight inside of.

On the other side of the arena, a hanger door opened up, allowing the wearer of the prototype to enter the battle arena. Holding his more advanced MBC4 on his shoulder in confidence, he chuckled as he strutted forward. The front of his helmet was completely covered; the soldier inside seeing the world through a digital grid that was shown as if his eyes were actually seeing what was in front of him. On the lower left side of his HUD was the Local Radar Display and to the right was his ammo count. Being connected to the suit by a wireless signal, he was able to tell how many bullets his weapon had — a full 30 round magazine.

Its predecesor, the MBC3 was longer, had higher recoil, and was limited to a 5 round magazine. Being a rifle capable of taking out light vehicles with a single shot, they were just enough to rival the mysteriously durable skin of the Niflheim. A typical Wotan warrior could take two or three shots on average, with head shots taking them out with one; while the more fraile Frickas dropped after a single shot. Aiming down the rifle’s scope, the drone’s heat sensing ability allowed it to see through the walls and all the way to the prototype — appearing as a yellow silhouette. Unable to fire through the large amount of cover between them, the two Beowulfs moved out, each taking a flank.

The prototype moved out as well, taking the middle, not even bothering to stop and look. He knew where they were already, their position being show as little red dots on his LRD. It’s identifying system was able to tell friend from foe by processing movement type, accessing their identity, body structure, heat output, anything that could classify them properly; the wearer also able to “toggle blink” at the dots to change them at will. Running up to a high stack of containers, the soldier leaped half way and reached out to get a hold of the side. Using the suit’s powerful grip to grab into the metal and climb up, he made it to the top with enough speed to leap upwards.

Aiming down his sight in mid air, a burst of cannon shots tore through the right side Beowulf. Before it could even lift its rifle to aim, two craters burst behind it, the third round hitting it square in the chest and knocking it to the ground with a short slide. Landing into a side roll, the soldier avoided the single shots coming his way from the left side. Spinning on a knee, he could see the Beowulf on his way to cover, rushing in its limited and slow jog. Another burst rang out, getting his opponent in the leg and the arm.

Both limbs flew right off, sending the Beowulf into a stumble, breaking through half of a concrete wall. Its arm flew all the way to the observing window high above the arena, the hand banging on the bottom of it and making the glass reverberate. Demeitri stood there, holding his mouth in worry. Valarie never watched any of it, staying on the side, completely uninterested. She saw one minute of the very first test and resorted to take the time to file her nails ever since.

“Practice run was completed with zero damage, sir,” one of the technicians reported, attending one of the many computers in the observation room. “What process shall we follow with?”

“Give him process 277.”

“Activating process 27.”

Demeitri quickly turned towards the technican. “Not 27. 277!”

The technician took his eyes off of the screen, having them filled with uncertainty. “But sir, we have never even gone past process 139 throughout the entire project. Captain Washington himself has only done up to process 20 since yesterday.”

“No more arguing or else I will have you shoved into an Exoframe and make Captain Washington shoot you himself! Now, activate process 277. That goes for all of you! We are testing the limits of the Siegfried-Class Exoframe, not running a god damn day care!”

Everyone in the room typed rapidly, not saying another word. Demeitri held himself against the glass in anticipation, watching the doors and platforms bring in the reinforcements. From all sides, Beowulf drones entered, already firing at Captain Washington. Firing back while on the move, he leaped off of the containers and dropped back onto the ground, letting out a few burst before he did. Beowulfs fell near the west door, crashing and blowing into each other as the cannon rounds turned them and anything behind them into wrecks of useless metal.

The AI in the Beowulf drones were still at a human level of inaccuracy, the shots coming from their MBC3s filling the containers with holes all around the Siegfried Exoframe. A round hit Washington’s left breast plate, a wave of purple energy dispersing the throwback; the damaged plate of armor smoldering. Staying down while the gunfire continued, liquid metal bubbled around the area that was hit, pooling around the small hole to make it like new. Shaking his head as if he was fighting to stay awake, the captain stood up. A compartment of his leg armor swung outward, revealing a fragmentation disc.

In one quick move, he entered a sprint and tossed the disc over the containers towering over him; the suit’s computer system giving him the right volley arc with a dotted line display. The disc spun horizontally, floating down towards a cluster of Beowulf drones. Skipping on the ground once, it bashed into the foot of the drone in the middle, activating its armament. Crumbling into dozens of individual pieces, the disc turned into anti-personal Javelin rockets, all shooting off in different directions. The heat-seeking rockets all found their place, a few spinning around near the ceiling and flying back down to attach to a victim.

The rockets burned their way into the armor, melting a small hole in order to have the explosion happen within the Exoframe. Beowulfs bursted into pieces, one after another; bits of robotic limbs filling the air. Reloading his rifle, the captain struggled to stay standing. A burst of steam shot out of the magazine port, the hissing ceased once a fresh one was slammed inside. Getting out of cover, he moved over to the other side of the arena, and kept zig zagging through the maze on his way to his next targets.

One of the Beowulfs charged in blindly, expecting to get to him before he could see it flanking him. Washington swung around a corner and clotheslined it with the broad side of his rifle, dropping it to the ground hard enough to have armor plating come loose in the back of its helmet. Lifting a leg up high, he slammed his boot down onto the drone’s face. The impact-activated heel sent a wave of purple energy downward, turning the drone’s head into an explosion of bend plates and wires. Its arms fell limp, the red lights lined around its body dying out.

Stumbling, the captain held his chest, the inside of his visor flashing red. His breathing grew sharp, his legs buckling. All of the remaining Beowulf units charged in and surrounded him. They didn’t fire, sensing that he was already defeated because of his vitals going haywire. Falling back onto the wall of a container, he clutched at his helmet, trying desperately to take it off.

In the observation platform, a video feed of the captain from within the suit showed him screaming in pain. Everything was going through the roof: heart rate, EEG, body temperature. Foam was bubbling from his mouth, his eyes turning bloodshot. Demeitri slammed a fist into the glass. It was more out of anger than concern for the dying soldier.

“No, not again! Not with him!”

“Don’t tell me you lost another one,” Valarie said, blowing on her left hand to finish up.

“I’m not losing him like I did with the others.” Demeitri stormed out of the room, taking Valerie's hand as he passed by her. “Come with me. I need your good luck more than ever.” Looking over his shoulder, he sent out an order to the technicians before he left. “Shut down the AI program. I want a medical team sent here immediately.”

The elevator to get down there only took a few seconds, but Demeitri couldn’t waste any time. Once the doors opened, he sprinted out into the arena, almost dragging Valerie behind him. With her slowing him down, he let go, running by himself all the way to the gathering of his beloved inventions. Pushing his way through the offline drones, he squeezed and pressed himself deep into the crowd of Exoframes, bruising himself all over. The pain didn’t matter to him.

All that mattered was having the Siegfried a success.

By the time he reached his latest creation, the captain was vibrating, his arms and legs shaking violently. Flying down onto a knee, Demeitri held the captain’s head steady to press the indentation under where the left ear is, activating the helmet's receding mechanism. Folding backwards, the armor plating and glass visor around Washington’s face allowed a sputter of foam to shoot out, the african-american soldier coughing loudly. His eyes were unfocused, unable to see anything. The medical team was already at the elevator from the lower levels, but it wasn’t going to do anything for him.

Tossing his head away from Demeitri, vomit sprayed out of the captain’s mouth. Pooling up at his side and clinging onto his shoulder armor, the chucks of food turned a dark red on the second spew. Unable to control his body, the soldier held himself against the cold ground, his back flexing as he gagged and sputtered. With his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he fell flat into his own pool of expelled blood. By the time the medical team got there with their equipment and stretcher, they found Demeitri knelt down before a sprawled out corpse.

Holding his head down, Demeitri sighed. There was no grief, only personal defeat. “Get rid of him.” He turned away and stood up. Adjusting his suit, he saw there were droplets of blood across his jacket. Wiping his mouth, he smeared some more blood across his cheek with a sleeve. “And have the Siegfried sent for cleaning.”

“And, so, the list goes on,” Valerie remarked, handing Demeitri a handkerchief to clean his face with.

He took it, rubbing his whole face with it, only having a little bit of it across his mouth. “It’s the only flaw,” he said softly.

“It’s a crippling flaw, sir.”

“I know.” Lowering the handkerchief away from his face, Demeitri kept his eyes down. “Everything is perfect. The reaction time. The power output. The defensive measures. The superior loadout. Everything but its regeneration module. It’s only flaw is the one thing that it can’t be without.”

Valerie put a hand on his shoulder. She would never touch anyone past their wrist and only with him was she willing to move her hand upwards and massage the back of his neck. With a weak smile, Demeitri held her wrist, slowly moving her hand away. Valerie’s face never budged as she looked into his eyes the entire time, showing a hint of sympathy towards him. As faint as it was, Demeitri was the utmost thankful for receiving it.

“Valerie, show me my list of candidates, will you?”

“As you wish, sir.” Pressing a few buttons on her wrist screen, she turned on its holo-feature and had the page float over her extended arm.

Demeitri swung a hand through the digital page, beginning the search for a new recruit worthy of commanding the Seigfreid. Names and ranks of all kinds flashed by the screen, showing their history of action. He only wanted the best, just as the Beowulf was given to the best during Second Spear. He needed a ruthless warrior, someone able to kill and survive all on their own. An unstoppable killing machine.