Post by EmperorMyric on Jul 13, 2023 11:14:36 GMT
Kyalam System: Vosh Inc. Space
Annete ticked off the checkboxes in her head, quite literally in fact as the HUD she wore behind her eyes tracked and correlated data of the procedure she was watching. Every step ticked off and filled parameters set in stone by Vosh Inc. and as part of the deal that the company had with its clients, these inhuman things that were being operated on. Annete had done this liaison job here for months and yet this posting continued to make her sick. Watching the operations being conducted never seemed to get any better.
The thing in front of her was once human, now it was a bloated half tumour on the very verge of death. Cables and pipes fed enough chemicals into the thing to kill any normal species outright through overdose, but here they kept it alive, sustained it, but also killed it. Vosh Inc. was one of the galaxies biggest corporate brands when it came to genetic and designer engineering but there was one market they wished to corner and capitalise first. Artificial psions. In a move which had been frantic they had bought and scraped together information and data on Capitols first Avalon project when the nation fell apart, but it was the next recovery they managed which had been the golden egg. In exchange for fleeing Rubikon, Vosh Inc. would harbour the old guard survivors of the Brotherhood of the Great State, the original handlers and creators of the infamous Army of the Panopticon.
The BGS demands had been specific. They were sequestered away to this forsaken arcology, hidden under a dome in a crater and surrounded by snow and ice. Every piece of information inload and outload had been specifically tailored to create the illusion that the BGS had won, that the galaxy had accepted their insane socio-political truth and a new ‘people’ to call their own had been engineered off of the Capitol Brute strain to care for and enact the old mens insane rambled wishes. These teddy bears were large and droopy affairs, pure empaths who tended to every whim and so the BGS elite had descended rapidly into little more than pleasure. They had placed themselves repeatedly on the very edge of death, diving into the Panopticon like they once had, almost like junkies trying to relive their first high. Vosh didn’t care about what the BGS remnants did, they only cared about their end of the deal.
In exchange for giving these… things what they wanted, Vosh monitored every inch of this hospital arcology, they took biometrics and other information from the creatures that spent their days in ‘paradise’ and they used it to build up their understanding. But the most important part was the string production. Any of the Panopticon can produce the impressive Solarite string, but these long-used creatures created it inside of themselves, every few days the teddy bears would conduct surgical procedures to open up these man-whales to extract the string and harvest it. Vosh could use it for their own projects and while it was faint and far from potent anything would do.
This place was a nightmarish hospital paradise of dysfunctional genetic creations and half dead wash outs trying to relive their glory days. But it furthered the corporation’s ambition, they would create artificial psions soon they just needed more data.
----
One moment in the strange new Liminus, the next they were flying into a blizzard.
Jonan wasn’t quite used to this new Liminus yet. Admittedly he hadn’t spent much time in the old one, but now that many above his station had lost their lives Jonan had been promoted. Before he even knew it he was now conducting a raid on some place he had never heard of and commanding the Synopticon forces. He was originally from a place called Flareview, owned a club called N0DE before he had almost died, he didn’t quite know what happened next, but he had ended up with the Synopticon folks. He had learned incredible things and he knew only more awaited. He was eager to prove himself.
The Liminal Guidons flew into the blizzard at speed, Jonan and his strike force rocking as they made a rapid descent, the Golden strings of the craft causing snow to melt as it sped past them. Up ahead was the target, a decadent mansion where the remains of the BGS sold their secrets to corporations just so they could desperately relive a sliver of their past glory. Jonan had not been a member when the BGS still controlled and created the Army of the Panopticon but he had read all the history.
What a sorry end to those who helped meld the inheritors of the galaxy, of the psion.
The craft came in low, flying through the atmospheric shield the arcology was not protected from air attack. Bombing the facility would only accomplish half the mission, they had to wipe the data Vosh acquired already. Jonan took a breath before he slid through the bottom of the crafts exterior like it wasn’t there, strings cradling him and his force as the Guidons came in low and slowed down allowing them to drop into the grounds.
In a matter of moments, the strange brute things which had watched them nearby were put down by precision headshots. Jonan hefting his scythe gestured for them to move out as the Guidons flew off and out.
The mission was on.
---
It took only moments before the surveillance system notified them that they were under attack. Annete desperately relaying the information back to HQ. The enemy wasn’t jamming, likely they thought their mission could be conducted swiftly, but it wasn’t until she saw the forces as they breached into the facility that she felt true fear. The Army of the Synopticon was emblazoned on their uniforms, the Panopticons lackeys.
She skipped protocol, alerting the nearby communications hub and putting through a call for aid.
Vosh Inc. needed immediate assistance, the Army had been spotted and was here targeting their facility. Anyone who could provide support would be generously paid in genetics contracts and SIGEC. As she waited, it was all a matter of time.
'Receiving Transmission...'
The AI of the Network ship awoke, having been sitting in deep space and patrolling for notable events, it had picked up the Vosh Inc. transmission.
'Evaluating Data...'
Sub-AI sprung to life determining the contents of the emergency call and trying to discern its priority.
In a way, it was lucky they had picked it up, between the number of necessary projects currently running in the Network and the ongoing war, the patrol density had been diminishing significantly, though given the scale of the emergency call it had also been hard to miss.
'Panopticon incursion, Vosh Inc., notable genetics company.'
Panopticon.
Almost immediately the distress call sprung to the top of the priority list.
Further AI was awakened, frames were brought out of maintenance cycles, rudimentary slave AI uploaded to them, command frames awakened, copies of Sapient AI integrated into Android bodies.
The Panopticon.
The Network had been hunting them and information about them for a while now and although they had been almost equally as elusive as themselves, their plans necessitated actions, whilst the Network simply had to observe and make connections, prepare for cases like these.
They had been on high alert ever since the quite open attack on the Minevan psionic beacon.
Most of the time, it went without result. Pirate attacks on a lone ancerium miner, Bedlam raids on neutral nations, ghost strikes on war related factions. Today, it was different.
'Sending Information...
Receiving orders...'
Mission checkmarks were passed as the ships skip-jump drives charged up, the mission had received confirmation and priority from the Custodian. They took little interest in the actual reward but if the Panopticon attacked a company mostly known for aesthetic genetic engineering, there had to be more behind it. All the more reason to intervene even beyond the involvement of the Panopticon in of itself.
'Engaging visual cloaks.'
'Linking ftl-drives of slave-AI vessels.
'Preparing for jump...'
Space bent, a flash of light from a moment of quantum decoherence.
The patrol arrived in the system, having taken the last stretch with simple alcubierre drives, its identity veiled by fake IFF and visual cloaks, drop ships preparing to go down to the planet.
The hunt was on.
IDS See No Evil
Saboteur-Class Corvette
"Marines, Attention."
"Sir!"
Menthus smiled, his green eyes shining oddly in the red overhead lights of their transport's loading bay. His black hair had recently been cut short- much to his dismay- and he wore the Black-and-maroon armour of the Morati he worked with- the Soldiers under his command. The colours nicely accented the dark browns and blacks of his skin, hair, and tattoes, he though. He straightened out, and began to speak to the five helmeted soldiers before him- standing at attention.
"Morati! Marines! We are approaching our target in Kyalam. We've all heard the mission details, but I'll muse over them once more for the sake of memory. We will be assisting Vosh Inc. A research base of theirs has been targeted by Synopticon soldiers, and they've put out a cry for help. Today, we'll be dropping in and taking up orders from allied command. Our job is to take out Tactical Objectives, individual threats, lay ambushes, and take as much video footages as our helm-cams can transmit skyward-" he emphasized, pointing towards the roof of the ship, "so we may learn as much about the psionic soldiers currently wracking the galaxy as we can. Understood, Marines?"
"Sir! Yes, Sir!"
One marine in particular spoke up; Number Five, the sniper and special-warfare operative. His armour was far lighter in weight than the rest of them, and his massive lance-rifle hung from the mag-clamp on his back like an unintentional threat always looming behind him. His Visor lifted, and revealed a light-skinned man with bright reddish-orange hair and freckles.
"Captain, permission to speak?"
"Permission Granted, Larson."
"Why we takin' orders from some wackoes on the ground we never heard of before?"
"Because they're at the center of the combat, and they'll know who or what needs to be taken down. And to be clear... We take targets, not proper orders. Anything else?"
"Nah, Cap'n," Larson responded, his visor falling down over his face, covering the toothy grin that had appeared onto his face.
"Very well then. We'll be dropping from hyperspace in a few moments. Hold on to something, Morati."
"Aye, Sir!"
Kyalam System
There was a silent thump, and the IDS See No Evil dropped out of hyperspace, halting to a near-stop as it angled to get close to the planet's surface. Its transponder had already been cut dark- giving it no IFF readings; and it's stealth-drive had kicked on, drinking down sinarium and projecting a cloaking field around the craft, directed towards the vessels of the Synopticon in an effort to not waste energy cloaking the entire vessl.
A small bay opened up, and a cloaked transport dropped down- it's fusion drives on full burn as it turned it's nose towards the surface of the planet, and their designated drop-zone. (edited)
DSS Index of the Moon
Ardieri Class Gunship, Patrol Loadout (Corvette for reference)
The crew of the ship were on General Quarters in their spacesuits. Keeping an eye out for anything strange or otherwise. All in all, it was a slow and boring shift of their patrol with nothing exciting occurring, until they finally picked up something. Specifically, A distress call.
The Captain floated on into the bridge and pushed off a wall to the bridge to inquire on the finding.
"Communications, report!" She spoke up, Visor up to show her face.
The specialist would turn the seat around and gave a quick salute before speaking up, "Ma'am, We've picked up a distress call by a nearby world. A genetics company called Vosh Incorporated is under attack by a enemy force. I was able to catch the word 'Panopticon'."
The Captain would pause for a minute, silently gasping before nodding.
"Noted. Get the word out, Command would like to know it."
With that, The Specialist turned back around and began transmitting the news over to their mothership, the Corvette Carrier 'Twenty Pairs of Eyes'.
Kyalam System
QEF Lunar Dagger of Majiir, transport corvette
Another Thump echoed through the vessel as it exited hyperspace, the lights brightening throughout the ship as the ship’s power was given more leeway from so much being drawn to their hyperspace engine.
A joint operation had been swiftly organized and equipped, especially after mention of the Panopticon was detected. After such a public display of malice towards the denizens of the galaxy in general, the fact that they were already acting so brazenly in the Alliance’s general area brought some level of alarm, and in response several units were chosen for their specialties and experience in the field, with the results hailing from the Ghorran worlds and the Dyson city, mobilized and outfitted and quickly ready to be deployed, now waiting for their transports to launch and take them to the surface of the world below.
There was a heavy sense of unease and the natural fear of the unknown permeating the interiors of the transport shuttles. The unfortunate truth was many, if not all of the soldiers taking part in this mission had little to no experience with Psionic abilities. Such gifts were not found throughout the words of the Quosx Alliance, and many citizens had up till recently been convinced something like that was a folk tale to begin with... so they were left with unanswered questions and morbid curiosity.
Biological Successor Dysonians made up the majority of their force of three squads, each made up of four man fireteams, but bolstering their numbers were a small number of Predecessor combat models- heavily built humanoid robots with sleek, sturdy armor and glowing green optical sensors shining under their metallic hoods, numbering for about three per squad.
[Mission launching in ten...] A genderless voice spoke up over the intercom, startling a few soldiers, who had been sitting in silence for a few minutes now.
[Nine... Eight...]
The shuttle’s engines began to spin up, the whine becoming louder and louder as the shuttle shook.
[Seven... Six...]
The whispers of prayers could now be heard, asking for blessings from The Guardian Moon and Sayyadina herself. Their faith in the deities that had protected their people so many times before, unshaken even in this suspense.
A few clasped a talisman in their hand, a metal circle with a scrawl rune imprinted on the surface, for example.
[Five... Four...]
The shuttles shook lightly as they began to move, slowly rising up from their positions in the Corvette’s hangar.
[Three... Two... One.]
The engines suddenly shifted to full throttle, and three shuttles fired from the Corvette, speeding down towards the planet below, with their own countermeasures in play to avoid detection by the forces attacking the facility.
Kyalam System
GSN Taftak, First of Two Ghorran shuttles docked with the Transport Corvette.
Inside the Taftak was a rather idle mood. Some were excited to be fighting, whether for the first time after a long time or just first time ever instead of just mucking about doing occasional trainings and the like. Some others were understandably quite afraid, whether first time or because of Psionics.
Amongst them was a squad of Armor Hunters, Who had parachutes of their own and were adorned in tribal or animalistic marks, albeit minimalist to preserve camoflauge. With two men of each fireteam carrying parts to a AT Rifle. Beyond that, while it may seem they're quiet, they actually quietly conversed amongst themselves. Just about anything really, family to the mission ahead.
The captain of the platoon would sit on down, Visor up and strapped in. First, he waited for the ship to undock, Following the DDF shuttles being sent planetside while in formation with its other.
Eventually, He then spoke up.
"Heads up, Paratroopers! I'd give a pep-talk but I trust you're all in the right motivation to fight. We don't have much topographic intel, But our objective is to help clear and secure a Corporate facility. Our enemy: Whatever's Paus ass is an Panopticon. From what intelligence can gather, They're a militant unit capable of Psionics. So try to keep yourself concealed or protected as much as possible since for all we could know, They can pop our heads. They're also no slouch in fighting, so don't underestimate them. That aside, You're free to engage the enemy, However try your hardest to not cause any collateral damage. Civilians are more than likely to be in the area, and also so we don't get bad rep.
That'll be all, Soldiers. May our battle be great!"
"For the Stars!" Replied the Paratroopers. A soon as they said that, Their shuttle began reentry...
[X:COMM—STATION-V1]
{(DETECTING EXTREME-LONG RANGE TRANSMISSION…)}
//DETERMINING TYPE…//
//DECRYPTING…//
…
{(CONVERTING QUBITS…)}
…
…
{(CONVERT SUCCESS)}
{(DISPLAY MESSAGE? Y/N)}
…
N
”No, wait, come back! God damn it, I need to be more aware of what the hell I'm actually doing.”
{(RETRIEVING MOST RECENT…)}
{(DISPLAYING…)}
”Now that’s quite interesting…”
——————————————
The Vosh distress call went out to several different receivers all at once. First to a few relay stations in the middle of interstellar space, then from those relays to more repeaters and receivers until the message reached a sizable minority of Cascadians that were connected to Ancnet. Most steered clear of the Panopticon, and the ones that did want to follow the message to its source were met by the Federal Government, whose usually slow and bureaucratic pace quickened in response to a threat so distressing. Within the cosmic equivalent of “a few moments”, an inter-corporate force made up of mostly private military contractors supervised by NRN and NRA elements set off for the Kyalam system.
(1) Ellipsis-Class Destroyer (Modified Elliptical-Class Destroyer)—Pascal Arlein Military Solutions
PAV Fireburner
(1) Meridian-Class Frigate (Modified Elemental VC-Class Frigate)—Serracuda Inc.
SEV Isaac Sigms
The two ships of the Cascadian contingent dropped out of superluminal speeds in a brilliant and not-so-subtle flash of light followed by a flurry of high-frequency electromagnetic radiation, detectable to all observers in the area. Once the main fusion drives powered on, the two ships began accelerating at breakneck magnitudes towards the planet.
It soon became clear, however, that due to tiny miscalculations, as well as the relative age and functionality of their Alcubierre Metric drives, the two ships had actually “dropped into” real space thousands of kilometers from their intended entry point. While the distance poses no threat to the logistics of the operation, it does mean that this particular contingent will be delayed in deploying their terrestrial units.
While the two ships are in motion, the military contractors inside review their plans as well as any information and intelligence regarding the Panopticon Army. Cascadia has had very little, if not zero interaction with the AOTP, so information regarding them is quite scarce. Still, whatever tidbits of intelligence they can gather on them paints a distressing picture; an army of megalomaniacs that worshiped a presumably higher plane of existence, the power of which was—according to them—unfathomable.
Kyalam System: Vosh Inc. Space
“You are to protect the assets at all costs, do you understand? Any risk, any chance you need to take to keep them intact you do not hesitate. If you do, if this goes south, you will not just lose your job”
Annete felt pure anxiety as she terminated the link to her superior operations executive. Several nations were already reporting in system to assist the company, and the companies own security forces were mobilising to assist. But this was the Synopticon, would she even have time? Taking a deep breath Annete took a moment to internalise her panic before she was interrupted by one of the Teddy Bears. It made sense, they were engineered to be extremely empathetic and sensitive to others needs.
“My lady, you ok?” It said carefully in its dopey non-threatening voice.
“No. A threat has infiltrated this paradise. Gather as many of you as you can and stop them. Code Delta 889” The alarms were starting to sound now in the facility. The thing seemed to look scared before its eyes glared over and it nodded, waddling off with purpose. At least they had engineered kill commands into them, they were derived from Brutes afterall.
--
As the various forces of those assisting entered the system the usual civilian traffic and more appeared on scopes, but no non Vosh Warships and nothing to indicate enemy attack. Yarom, the world in question was mostly tundra, its north and south poles little more than icey hellscapes, the perfect place to build a secluded contained fake paradise for a pet project. Thankfully intelligence reported that there was no anti orbital or anti air capability, for a combat drop this was going to be the nicest you could possibly get.
Co-ordinates were given to drop inside the atmospheric shield, in the strange gardens around the arcology. Wind howled and sheet snow and ice reduced visibility to less than a meter, forcing pilots to use their instruments as they came in low to drop forces off. No fire came to meet them allowing a rapid disembarkation and organisation. The facility was huge, slab sided and unadorned, with various service entry doors inside of many sizes.
The enemy had entered through the western most doorway into the facility, it would likely be the quickest way to get to them.
“Please keep all damage to an absolute minimum. Vosh assets are trying to slow down their progress, do not shoot the genetic constructs. Please hurry” the voice of Annete was sent over the communications to those currently landing.
The two Ghorran shuttles picked up the Coordinates as they overtook the three Dysonian shuttles in the formation. Due to the condition, The paratroopers would be forced to ditch their parachuting gear as they'd be forced to land and disembark when they get to the dropzone.
<<I read you ma'am. We're dropping in a soon as possible.>> Replied the paratrooper Captain over on the shuttle Taftak.
One shuttle would be heading into the Arcology and loaded off the HQ squad and two troopers, Being the Weapons squad and a Rifle squad. As well as three vehicles meant for Airdrop quickly mounted and driven on out. They were lightly armored and had HMGs on them for fire support. If anything, they were for just that and to also carry equipment.
This was likewise for the second shuttle, Which landed outside and disembarked two rifle squads and the Armor Hunters. The latter of which fill in for the Weapons squad.
The Arcology team as they're designated is to assist with interior defense alongside with the security assets, and help back up the Dysonians when they come in. The Outer Team as they're designated is multi-purpose. To scout the exterior and prevent any further potential break ins, as well as perhaps plug up the western doorway if possible.
----
"Pakaaaa-! It's cold!" Spoke a youthful Ghorran paratrooper, Manning the machinegun and scanning around. Trying to test out vision modes of his helmet goggles that would allow him to see as best as he could.
"Don't worry, Your exoskeletons heating will kick in in a bit. Should warm your torso at least." Replied another, who hooked his assault pack onto the side and got in.
"What we need to worry about is psychics."
"That's the thing though! We don't even know what they look like too!"
The squad sergeant spoke up as he loded up, "Quiet. We'll figure it out. Get this moving!"
The driver silently acknowledged and pressed down on the pedal. Now on the way followed by the others.
Surface of Yarom
The dominion's dropship landed down inside the designated landing zone of the arcology. The fusion drives of the craft were kicking up plumes of snow as it melted the tundral plains and ice beneath them, little puddles of dirty water forming. The transport's cloaking field shimmered away, large radiators unfolding and dumping heat into the surrounding cold air, doubling as a way to keep the ship from freezing up in the icy air. It's landing gear splashed down in the melted ice below them, and a door opened at the bottom, a ramp pushing into the wet ground.
Menthus stepped down briskly from the transport, slipping his helmet on as the cold crashed into his skin, prompting a shiver. He yelled out through the winds: "We'll go through the Western gateway here, keeping ourselves cautious and staying on the look for synopticon soldiers. Hopefully we can flank some of them, and take out important commanding officers."
"What happens if sum sinneh' bastards catch us, cap'n?" called out Larson in response, shuddering as the cold hit him. He cracked his knuckles and pulled out some spotting binoculars, getting an eye of the western doorway, then the Ghorrans landing nearby them. "Looks we got some allies in this mission with lots more soldiers than us, aye?"
"Then we make em regret bein' born!" responded the engineer. Lendy nodded her head with a smile no-one could see, and she peered towards the Ghorrans.
"Indeed, it will be good to have a larger force pressuring and distracting the Synopticon." replied Menthus, trying to ignore Lendy's enthusiasm as his squad fanned out around him, the lot of them preparing to move towards the Western gateway.
Orbit
[~100km above the surface]
The churn of the drives cut out, suddenly relieving the pressure that had been gradually building up on his upper body. The weightlessness of space instantaneously takes hold, pushing the captain of a Pascal Arlein infantry squad ever so slightly into the harnesses that hold him into the seat. He looks around the passenger bay, and locates his squadmates. They do the same. He looks around again - for the other squads of Pascal Arlein, as well as a sizable minority of sub-contractors. There’s a slight scorn on his face, but the subs don’t see it, and neither does the NRA Supervisor.
”We needed more manpower, especially since it was the Panopticon. I’m sorry, but that’s who you’re gonna have to work with.” That’s what the Supervisor said. That’s just who he was gonna have to work with.
Most contractors here and on Isaac Sigms were just like him - former Army or Navy personnel with extensive knowledge, either from the Supremacy Wars or from the Exile days. For the most part, they were here to beat back a savage foe, acting as an extension of the National Republican military.
The others were more ambiguous in their morality. Men and women with dark or unknown pasts, motivated by the pursuit of wealth and money. They would do anything to set themselves for life, and were little more than mercenaries, directed but not controlled by the Second Republic.
Before he can think too much more about it, the drives activate again, kicking him back. Orbit correction burn. They cut out before long. Then he undoes his harnesses and moves to the troopship.
—
Even through the snow and the thick clouds, everyone could see the descent of the Cascadian dropships. The bright orange plume of the chemical engines melted the snow and ground below it, before cutting out as the troopships smoothly landed. The troops dismounted first, followed by the light vehicles. As the area was secure, they quickly loaded up in the vehicles and headed for the Western gateway.
”Looks like we’re not the only ones here.” Having connected to the local communications grid, they informed Vosh about their imminent arrival.
Surface of Yarom, Vosh Arcology
A clean landing was a surprisingly generous opening to the mission, as the three transport shuttles landed in the Arcology, the trio of squads filing out quickly and organizing into their fireteams.
"Via..." Her voice scrambled by her helmet, one of the soldier shivered lightly as she got down on one knee, weapon raised and optics quickly scanning her surroundings. "This place already gives me the creeps. Reminds me of patrolling the Sprawl during the Revolution, just with... fewer Stomotopods."
Her input was ignored by her allies as the command fireteam of the platoon was speaking. "Alright, here's what we need. I need two squads to push to the west and intercept the hostiles breaking through in that direction. See if you can hit them on two sides and coordinate with friendly elements when you can. My squad will hold back and dig in to form a second line of defense with the nearby Ghorran squad and, again, with friendly elements present." He waited for a moment as the order was distributed between the Squads, before he swapped channels to communicate with their hosts.
"This is Commander Shial'shau of the DDF, to any friendly forces on this channel." He spoke, as two of the Dysonian squads began preparing to make their way westwards with weapons raised, soft crunching of snow from boots mixed with the more metallic stomping of the accompanying Predecessor Dysonians. "Our odds of survival here'll be much more optimistic if we coordinate and communicate with each other, so as a bit of a 'get to know you' activity, why don't we get a bit of a sound-off of who you all are and what we're bringing to the table?"
The soldier brushed off some show from his boot, and continued. "If you need me to start, well... you already know my name. But I'm bringing along three squads of three fireteams each, four soldiers per fireteam. My friend here, the Ghorrans, have brought their own platoon, half of which is keeping an eye on exterior of the Complex."
Shail'shau then listened for any reply.
'Evaluating situation on ground.
Multiple foreign signatures detected.
Engaging identity protection protocols...
Handing control to android frame...'
The ship AI which had been controlling the descent of the Network dropship went silent as Asdryn awoke, who was informed of the situation and his task in the same second.
The dropship dived into the atmoshpere like a needle, fast and near silent, a subtle warpfield preventing re-entry heat from the atmosphere and most of the navigational interference from the storm, though visual visibility was still near zero. Visual cloaks in form of holoprojectors activated, hiding the identity of the ship though not its presence.
Asdryn looked around in bleak and utilitarian grey room framed by metal walls and frowned, though unnecessary, ones bodily habits died hard, even if they were only imitations. He controlled the landing near the western entry whilst taking note of the transmission.
Before the ship landed or the people on the ground could even see it, a transmission came over the comms.
"Asdryn Severas, APS mercenary."
He pondered for a moment whether he should even disclose the number of frames they intended to deploy, though with the Synopticon already in the facility they already had a headstart anyways and it was not unlikely they knew they were coming.
"Nine fireteams, we can handle recon and coordination if necessary."
As the dropship was approaching the landing spot, equally as silent as it moved, Asdryn contacted the facility itself.
"This is APS contractor Asdryn Severas, we have heard your call, requesting floorplans and camerafeed of the facility, if you can provide such. We would advise to bring civilian staff to safety or evacuate them for the the duration of the incident."
The sleek and grey dropship, now visable for everyone appeared out of the snowstorm and landed. A ramp opened up and what looked like men in light powerarmour came down, each accompanied by two robots of similar style.
"Anything of note so far? Any questions?", Asdryn asked as he approached, skipping the formalities he deemed unnecessary in the situation.
Not long after the call, the Cascadian forces responded. A clear, commanding voice appeared on the radio and introduced himself as a certain Sergeant McNelly before listing off the Cascadian forces.
"We have 10 fireteams, divided into 4 squads in 1 light APC each. We also have urban assault and CQC drones with us, with orbital recon in place." Upon hearing Asdryn's question, he waited before responding again.
"Who's going to be leading this? The people on the inside?"
Kyalam System: Vosh Inc. Space
“We leave on the ground leadership to your discretion” Annete responded to the Cascadians and everyone else on the open net.
“I have a negative on camera feeds, civilian evacuations will be performed where necessary. Please understand this is a secure and highly confidential facility. Important company assets here dictate that I must abide by stringent policies, I can provide floorplans, but certain details will be removed. I hope you can understand”
The data sent across painted a somewhat disturbing picture that was only reinforced by the sights of the squads entering the facility. The place was laid out like a hospital, but with industrial elements included within and lots of redacted segments that led the imagination to wander. As elements entered through the same entry way as the enemy the first bodies became apparent. They were stocky, droopey and large, like huge fat children wearing fluffy clothes. It didn’t take a genius to work out they were clearly genetically engineered, they seemed to be the beings that Vosh told them not to kill. Still, their expressions showed contorted features in abject terror, their bodies riddled with bullet holes.
The area was a storage loading bay, with some civilian heavy haulers rigged up in tarpaulin. An inner door to the facility had been carved open, its edges still molten from breaching.
Beyond such was a reception esque area for cataloguing materials, but it felt even more like a hospital here. Surgical tiles and rubbery railings coated the walls and the floor itself was a rubbery texture that felt like somewhere conducting surgery. More bodies were found in the small office, three belonging to Vosh employees who had simply been sliced in half.
But at the end of the hallway stood a small child. They wore a surgical gown and stared at the forces as they entered, to check the bodies.
“Understood,” Menthus spoke over the open channel, in reference to Annete. “If you hear of any specific targets you need taken out, give us a call over communique channels.”
He cut the link and raised up his weapon alongside the Shadow Marines surrounding him. His throat tightened and he swallowed heavily, pulling the bolt on his rifle and checking the safety with his thumb.
“Jesus, lots of these things dead. Synnies really did a number on em’” one marine commented, tapping a body with their foot.
“Seems so, keep moving,” responded Menthus. He took a deep breath. Barely a few meters into the facility and already piles of bodies. Star knows what other hells they would find deeper in.
“Hey, guys, over here!” called one Marine- Private Drapine. He seemed to be walking towards something. The rest of them rounded the corner, metal boots tapping against the hospital-esque tiling as their guns raised.
They turned the corner just in time to see Drapine lowering his weapon, a child standing in front of him. He thumbed the safety, flipping it on so that the gun wouldnt fire, then let it hang from the sling. With one hand he began to reach out.
“Heya kid, you alright?” he said softly, the palm of his hand aiming upwards, as if offering for the child to take it.
“Drapine, somethin’ about this feels Wrong. Be careful,” spoke out Lendy, over the private comms channel the six marines all shared. She, like the rest of the marines, still had her gun out, not quite pointing at the child themself, but definitely in it’s general direction. Her voice carried a stress to it that was the telltale of goosebumps and a chill down her spine.
“Its just a kid,” he replied, “it cant hurt us,” flicking off his comm and lifting his helmet up, he offered a soft smile to the child. His eyes were an amber colour that nicely mixed with his tanned skin, soft jawline, and the dirty blond hair that peeked out from his helmet, through the hole where the now-lifted visor had been.
“Come on with us, and we can get’ya somewhere safe, alright?”
Approaching the child was his first mistake.
No words were spoken between the Dysonian soldiers as they pressed through the eerily silent halls, but when they saw the first of the twisted, sagging corpses, there was a thought shared among all of them, clear as day.
If they told anyone outside about this, in a matter of days they would be gone.
With that cheerful thought in mind, they began clearing into rooms to find any enemies, only to find more corpses... some of them sliced apart by some unknown enemy.
The facility had already been breached... and they may have very well underestimated the speed at which the Synopticon’s forces had advanced, adding another layer of paranoia to an already unstable stack of fears.
“Command should be handed off to someone who knows more about these guys than I do. As far as I’m concerned, we’re in uncharted territory here.” Rang the voice of Shial’shau once again. “However, if you want my input, we should have elements of our forces build up a line of defense around bottlenecks further back, in case-“ he stopped himself just in time from saying ‘the forward squads get taken out’, remembering they were listening in as well. “-In case Synopticon forces slip by our forward squads in force. Ambush points, barricades, if you’ve got a claymore or two, set those up in hidden spots, just make up a series of kill boxes. I don’t know how your respective nations function with their military but I’m confident that you know what I mean.”
“Sir, we’re getting reports of a couple bisected bodies. It’s... it’s a perfect cut too. Something very hot sliced right through these people.” The worried voice of a lieutenant pierced through comms.
“...Copy.”
Shial turned off his radio and took a few deep breaths, trying to settle his nerves, before he turned it on once again to speak on the channel the various factions were coordinating on. “I’m going to be blunt here... secrets are going to get people killed, so if any of you have intel that could be useful to all of us... I implore you to share. Im not asking for a full disclosure on your dirty laundry, but I’m not going to lose soldiers because of stingy bureaucrats, do I make myself clear?”
The Heavy Weapons squad and HQ team would stay behind and let the rifle squads scout out first. They too would prowl through the halls. The NCO of one of the fireteams would walk on over to one of the bodies to investigate. Seeing cauterized burns on the once living person.
It reminded him of the clash wars, though if only more of these post mortem wounds were.. messier. He shook his head and then rallied his squad to continue on to patrol and scout out the hallways and nearby rooms.
The second rifle squad would set up at a office block as they let the first squad ahead. Sort of a foothold that they can send bodies and wounded to the arcology for medevac and just a general staging point to send out reinforcements from and back for rest. Any corporate body inside would have been moved out and lined up for the corporations business to handle. The bloodstains though as remnant were rather ominous still to the rifleman
---
Meanwhile at HQ, a temporary post was made and the Captain would be over his radio, monitoring the helmet cameras of the various Paratroopers. Upon hearing Shial'shals voice, he spoke into the radio.
<<I believe they're quite aware, Shial, and be aware of where you place the directionals. The company is vehement about explosives near important assets, so be careful.>> He said, rather bluntly. Though not without weariness either.
<<.. I don't mean to be unprofessional, but are you afraid? Whether yes or no, Keep soldiering. I'll direct a squad in reserve to assist you if things go awry.>>
Having been delayed, the Cascadians were the last to enter through the Western doorway, leaving behind a single squad to guard their own vehicles and watch over the operational space outside the facility. Even though the others were sweeping into the building through the western gateway, like water being pumped into a stream, the Cascadians thought that they themselves should take lead, since they believed that their more "specialist" equipment would allow them to better clear the building and face any danger if needed. Nevertheless, their suggestions were not transmitted over to the frontal elements.
Their specialist equipment buzzed alongside them. These were divided into 2 main types of units: A tracked, terrestrial drone equipped with 2 recoilless rifles and a machine gun and quadcopters with either a single 12.7 machine gun, dual unguided rocket launchers, or both. Some units of this latter type sped forward, ahead of the Cascadians themselves, eventually linking up with the Dominion forces, who currently formed "spearhead" of this operation.
"Looks like these guys had a nasty case of Directed Energy syndrome." One contractor remarked as they passed by the bisected bodies.
"Yeah, but this doesn't look like lasers to me. Unless somehow they snuck a ship-grade graser-" Another contractor says, but his remark is cut off by reports about a possible survivor. A child.
"Do you think the graser missed a child?" The first man says again.
"I don't know. Let's get going."
A child? Something doesn't feel right. But what? It was just a child... Then he remembered.
637ASE — 36 Glasian Years Ago—47 Solar Years ago
Dawn breaks on the long-abandoned greenhouse, illuminating the pitiful remnants of what had once been the most efficient and durable of Glass’s genetically engineered crops. They had, for the most part, survived the artificially enhanced storms and lightning of the summers before, but luck could not deliver it from the cold, which seeped through the cracks and holes of the withering protective layers. By the time a lone militia squad took shelter in the ruins, most of the wheat, barley, rice and vegetables were dead, killed by the artificially induced frost.
There were six men and three women alongside the crops; former strangers bound by the promise that the least of them was greater than the sum of all of them. They rotated watches, waiting for a response, or just something, from the regional polity that they chose to believe was the successor to the First Republic. On some days and nights, there were bright stars in the sky—explosions that reminded them that the war was still present even if their immediate surroundings did not say so.
The advanced, mechanized world they lived their childhoods in had died. Heavenly weapons shifted the tectonic plates and caused tsunamis that rivaled skyscrapers, obliterating the coasts. Artificial plagues had consumed billions.
And the group wondered what would happen next.
Early one evening, the man on the watch saw the dead sea of plants parting and knew someone, or something, was coming. He called to the others who were sheltering in the admin-wing of the greenhouse, and a woman came out and stood with him. Together they watched the tall stalks parting further and further into their direction, while the others pressed their faces to windows and waited.
Eventually the curtain of crops parted, revealing a child. The man leveled his rifle at him, but the woman next to him rushed to shove the barrel away. He’s just a baby. Would you shoot a child? The man’s face was twisted with anger and confusion from his indecision, which forced him to rethink what had been happening since the Exile. Man turned on man, Cascadian pointed weapons at other Cascadians–something which was simply taken for granted to never occur again. The woman ran to the child, embracing him and pressing his face to her chest. The man with the gun stepped forward, but did not dare to speak.
He’s freezing. Get a blanket and some boiled water from the other unit. The man obliged, waiting a few minutes to see if anything else emerged from the stalks and exited through one of the many holes in the greenhouse. As he was returning from the other unit, he saw through the window the reactions of his comrades. They stared at the child but did not speak, dumbstruck by his appearance. How could this be? He thought that too.
“I have a big owie in my throat. It hurts.”
The man’s enhanced eyes saw the woman prodding the child to open his mouth. He saw her peer into his mouth cavity, but neither of them could see the micrometer-thin wire embedded near the opening of the threat. They couldn’t know, as the woman bent over to get a better look, that the device inside was calibrated to detect the slight increase in CO2, caused by their breathing.
The breath a trigger.
The child a weapon.
His expert reflexes caused him to dodge ever so slightly as the explosion vaporized the entire greenhouse. He was thrown back, beaten badly from the insane shockwave and thermal energy. Only a friendly unit passing by to investigate such an explosion saved him.
—----------
The Cascadian rushed forward, surging through ranks of both his countrymen and foreign strangers to reach Drapine. As he ran, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
”Get away from the child! Don’t touch him!”
But he could see that it was too late.
Asdryn watched the corpses in the entrance, they did indeed carry the signature of the Panopticon, Voshs engineered 'guards' seemed to have no significant resistance to offer to them, which meant they would have to move quick if they wanted to catch them.
The fact they would have no camera coverage was concerning, though the floorplans, as reduced as they may be, would at least help.
"Understood."
He studied the plans they had been provided with to see which was the most likely route the Panopticon intruders would take and if there were any shortcuts they themselves could take, it would be save to say, whatever they were looking for was likely at the centre of the facility or it's data servers.
The Network, or supposed 'APS', group began to fan out into three groups of three fireteams, each group pulling small devices from their belts which halted mid-air as they let go of them and then headed off into various directions to scout ahead of them.
"I find it unlikely they will return to the entrance, we have neither seen the craft they arrived with, if there was one and judging by what we know so far they tend to just disappear once they reached their goals. Remember, if they start leaving we have already failed our task anyways."
He paused for a moment as they entered the corridor seeing the child at the end, he knew something was off but shooting children, as suspicious as they may be, usually did not go well with the employers.
"Annete are there any children in this facility?"
He answered to the Dysonians in a routinely manner as he waited for an answer from Annete.
"What we will be facing here are genetically engineered soldiers, potentially psions, most of them do not feel any pain nor will they simply go down from most damage that would easily kill someone else so don't use your shots sparingly, focus on their leaders where possible."
Comms came to life as Drapine started approaching the child.
"Children? No... what do you mean, what children? Do you mean the Teddybears?"
Asdryn knew something had been off.
"GET AWAY FROM-!"
Was as far as he came over the group comms, the last thing they heard before the childs eyes suddenly widened and it's mouth gaped open unnaturally in a display of otherworldly horror...
Annete had only begun to explain that there were no children in the facility before the child had merely looked up at Drapine.
Its face had been one of pure soulless horror, like the child's entire existence had been drained out of it and a creature of pure dark malice put inside. As its face contorted its two hands grabbed Drapines as the screaming began.
The sound alone was enough to shatter the hospital tiling on the walls and the glass at the offices next to the entrance as the shockwaves of the sound careened down the hallway, but it was the psionic screaming in everyone's minds which evoked true horror. It was like a primal creature in so much pain and calling for help as it rung mentally, Drapine never stood a chance. His mandala was annihilated by the psionic force of the screaming even as his body ruptured and blood flowed from nearly every piece of his opened form. The rest were luckier, the proximity of the psionic screaming was not enough to kill, but it was enough to inflict psychological problems and terrify those that heard it.
As the noise finally died, the child's broken body was mangled on the floor next to Drapines, blood covering the whole section of the corridor and the T junction ahead. The lights had been destroyed, leaving the only illumination as a small golden string hovering above the child's corpse.
The child had been nothing more than a psionic landmine.
From the schematics the enemy had taken a left, climbing a series of stairs and onto the first of the surgical floors.
But given their first taste of what the enemy was capable of and willing to deploy, it had certainly been a wake up call.
--
The obsese creature which had once been a member of the Brotherhood of the Great State convulsed as it died, properly this time and not one of its artificial death cycles. Jonan had made sure to strip away the psychological manipulation that clouded the things mind, so that it knew that the BGS had never won. So that this previous man had known what truly transpired.
His scythe dripped in blood he held some of the low quality Solarite string in his hand, immolating it utterly. The sound of gunfire and screaming coming from further down the hall. The 'Teddy Bears' were proving annoying in their ability to take hits and keep coming. But it was the sudden psionic screaming which made Jonan tilt his head.
"Brothers, Sisters, we are no longer alone. Time to pick up the pace"
THE ARCOLOGY
There was an awkwardly long pause from Shial when he heard the Ghorran’s question, having been caught quite off-guard by it’s bluntness.
“I...”
Wait. He couldn’t answer that question, he wasn’t in the halls of the facility, hunting down whoever the Synopticon had brought in!
“What kind of question is that?!” He exclaimed, speaking mostly to himself, but still audible to the Ghorran. “Whether I’m scared or not is none of your business, if I’ve got feelings to unpack, I’ll do it after-“
The split second after that felt as if some cruel, superpowered god had placed his hands on Shial’s ears, and began to push against them, trying to burst his head open with the sheer pressure. Stumbling and falling against a vehicle, he let out a cry and held his hands up to his head, falling to the ground and curling up into a fetal position.
“H-help... HELP ME!”
Around him, other Dysonian personnel felt the Psionic scream similarly, save be for the few Predecessors, who’s only reaction was their optics flickering noticeably, before they got to work, trying to get the others to their feet, and figure out what the hell had just happened.
Shial’shau slowly sat up against the vehicle, reaching up and taking off his helmet. The interior optics were fogged up. Moisture formed at the edge of his eyes.
Were they truly ready for this?
FACILITY INTERIOR
“Is everyone up? Is everyone on their feet?!” The voice of a team leader called out, helping one of her riflemen to his feet.
“A-All accounted for.” The reply came from further down the hallway, where one Dysonian propped his stunned friend up against a box, checking if he was still conscious, and letting out a sigh of relief when his friend gave a thumbs up and a weak chuckle.
What the fuck happened there?? One moment you’re giving me an update, the next all I hear over Comms is everyone screaming! An angry voice pierced through the woman’s comms, causing her to flinch. The other squad had taken up an alternate route, and since they didn’t sound like they had been effected nearly as much, whatever had stuck them hadn’t effected the entire facility.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Shial! Are you there?”
“I-I’m here.” Came the meek reply. “We’re all fine up here, just... need a moment to recover...”
Oh. The voice of the other squad leader softened, clearly apologetic for resorting so quickly to shouting. Alright. While you guys get yourselves together, We’ll try to clear a way to meet and intercept Synopticon forces, and hold them off so you can get here and possibly get a flank in. If I can get a request to the Cascadian forces as well... You have drones, yeah? We’d love to get some recon from you so we don’t run into any more nasty surprises. Offer extends to all allies, as well.
THE ARCOLOGY
“They’re trying to slow our progress...” Shial muttered to himself, his thoughts now going a mile a minute as he tried to think over what had just occurred. This was a job more suited for something like the Sundowners, not for regular infantry! This kind of skulking through dark buildings, trying to fight some anomalous force...
He shook his head and placed his helmet back on. He had to focus.
“All friendly forces...” His voice broke. How humiliating. Shial cleared his throat and tried again. “Annete, I repeat myself now... secrets are going to get people killed, and you aren’t exempt from that. If we are to clear this facility swiftly, we need you to cooperate with us. Can you at the very least give us an idea on where Synopticon forces may be heading, their last known location, anything?”
HQ Team, Captain
The Captain would listen to the young mans muttering over radio, before speaking up.
Before he was going to make a quick remark and move on, He heard a sharp noise in his headset and he'd flinch, taking off his helmet and rubbing it.
"Via-" He swore, Before looking back over the mini-terminal.
<<Lieutenant Shial, Status?>>
Nothing, A few cameras from his first rifle squad on patrol started to flicker, some froze. He tried getting on the communications and began alerting the other squads.
Something wasn't right, and it sent a chill crawling up his spine. Still, he kept trying to see if he could get in contact..
First Squad, First Fireteam
The First Squad had been relatively near wherever most of the Allies are at and were afflicted by the piercing influence of whatever sheer psionic power was in play. The NCO was sent crumpling into a wall, having tried to catch his fall before being in shock. Felt like he was being in a overpressure blast, except if there wasn't an explosion. He whimpered in pain before he opened his eyes and slowly got up, Shaking his head and looking to the rest of his fireteam.
"Team, check in! Whose down and out?" He rang out.
A rifleman huffed and looked up, lifting up his goggles and rubbing his eyes as he leaned against the wall for a breather.
"I'm alright, What was that?" He said with subtle exhasperation.
"Beyond me Private," Replied the NCO who then looked at the others who rang out that they were alright.
His radio began kicking in, The voice of the captain speaking up,
<<I lost contact with your squad for a moment. Status?>>
The NCO reached up to press a button as he watched the doorway, Rifle up.
<<No casualties. We apparently have been hit with some sort of.. Not even explosive, psychic? Force. Anything happened to 2nd team?>>
<<Noted, Sargeant. 2nd team is in the green. Link up with fireteam 2 and move in to check in with allies.>>
<<Wilco..>>
HQ Team, Captain
The Captain sighed in relief that the men under his command haven't horribly died all at once. However, This started to give him a hunch that either the enemy had long left the facility and were just leaving behind something to slow them down, or most likely, they're still around and were indeed trying to slow them down. Going with the latter, He began to give out rapid fire orders to all squads to stay alert and keep an eye out for traps.
He then spoke up once again to allied communications.
<<Allied forces, Status?>>
Exterior Section
The Exterior Section drove around the outskirts of the building before finally coming upon the western entrance, Infantry dismounting their vehicles roughly 1000 meters away with the Armor Hunters setting up somewhere where they can observe the doorway. The AH Team half expecting there to be a dropship or something formidable standing at the doors...
"What the Fu-"
Drapine's last words were brief as his soft expression changed to fear, and then to agony. Barely seconds after the screaming began, his blood vessels ruptured, lungs collapsed, and his mind shattered into a million-trillion pieces. Blood seeped out of his ears and eyes and nose and mouth before he crumpled and collapsed onto the ground, his hand only held up until the child too collapsed, left bleeding.
The rest of the marines- especially the already psionically latent Menthus- were hit agonizingly hard, being close to where Drapine lay dead, but none of them seemed to have died. Beneath their helmets, one marine's ears were bleeding; Lendy had doubled over after lifting her visor, and vomited onto the floor, her eyes bloodshot; and Menthus groaned in pain, wiping water from his eyes.
Larson shook his head, and spoke first.
"Goddamnit, 'et fucken killed Drapine," he said, clearly angry but still in pain.
"We must keep moving, the cold will keep his body preserved until we can come back for him," said Menthus, with a necessary coldness. After that, the Dominion soldiers collected themselves, a somberness among them as they shared silent conversation over comms systems, and felt a heavy pain in their hearts. Despite this, they collected Drapine's dogtags, and kept moving.
Not again! The infantryman screams out, but his voice is drowned out by the overwhelming pressure of an explosion, or at least what he thinks is an explosion, that sends him flying across the hallway and into a wall with a noticeable thud. He is knocked out immediately, and in the process, saved from the demonic mind-torture everyone else experiences.
Cascadians possess natural blank barriers, making them disconnected from most things psionic, though the amount of this disconnect varies from person to person. The blank-state allows them to endure psionic attacks, but they were no match for this kind of concentrated, localized assault.
A few steel on. Another few drop to the ground. Most are silent—reeling from the horrifying psychological effects, but carrying on after an agonizing moment.
”We got a man down.” One of them shouted, motioning over to the motionless corpse of the man that tried so hard. A field medic checked his vitals; he was alive, but heavily injured from the shock and sudden impact on the wall.
”Take him back to the vehicles. They know what to do.” Three members of his squad nodded, carrying him to the western gateway which they entered through. The others, having recovered to the best of their abilities, responded to a request by their Allies.
”Ahem. Yes. We do have drones. They can scout ahead and engage the enemy first.” It took a few seconds for the drones to switch to the right mode. Upon doing so, the buzzing quadcopters sped forward, followed by the tracked ones. The former were much faster than any infantryman, so they should hopefully clear out the hallways faster…
Asdryn could feel parts of his suit interlock to absorb the impact though the surge of power that had come with it even he had not been prepared for. There was a thin smoldering from his feet paired with the stinging smell of molten rubber.
He had been lucky they kept their distance, he wasn't sure if his systems would've survived the blast. He would put emphasis on the children in his report, given that it was the first time they encountered them.
"There are no children in this facility according to Annete, this supposed 'child' was a psionic mine.", he noted, mostly to everyone who hadn't been there or hadn't caught on to what happened.
He looked at the Dominion soldier and the Cascadian who had been thrown back against the wall, two casualties and they haven't gotten significantly closer to the target yet.
"Hover drones should be on their way to scout the corridors we can provide you with info if you want to better direct your own.", he answered to the Cascadians. "We should keep moving, our enemy is most likely headed to the centre of the facility, avoid the children or shoot them on the spot, but keep your distance from anything that doesn't look right."
There was no use in standing here and idling around, his own 'troops' already knew all that had transpired in detail, given the ongoing datalink, so he didn't have to inform them and the Synopticon certainly wouldn't wait for them. He moved past Drapines corpse and entered the next room with caution.
“Their heading for the top layers of the arcology where certain members important to the company are… working. They intend to assassinate them, and likely target the main server core to destroy its data banks. Given the combat reports they are around 45 minutes from getting to my level, they are moving incredibly swiftly despite the current defence. They are taking out cameras, heat sensors and other monitoring devices everywhere they go so I can’t give you exact coverage, they may be sweeping the lower floors too watch out” Annetes voice was clear but despite the business-like professionalism she was obviously terrified and that seeped into her tone.
As the forces collected themselves after this sudden wake up call, they began to move on, drones fanning out as they moved up the staircase and into the couple of floors above. Most was empty as the squads kept moving, scanning environments and checking the rooms, all of which appeared to be large storage warehouse areas where cryogenically cooled assets were kept. Mostly drugs, surgical equipment and sample racks. But here and there were super cooled crates reinforced and containing large hazards for biological matter.
It wasn’t until they continued through the eerily clean stairway up again that they saw the first of the surgical chambers.
They were huge, with specialist gurneys, roof cranes and beds which were gigantic. Whatever was being operated on or cared for here must be monstrously large, whole hosts of cables and drug dispensers covered the walls. These lower operation rooms hadn’t been used in a long time, they were undisturbed despite being clean, and the low temperature here helped keep them that way.
Still several bodies ahead near the stairs indicated the enemy had been here, the half-frozen remains of three Teddy Bears lay. They too were huge, like hunched back and distorted children that bore some resemblance to the Capitol Brute strain.
A moment later the drone going up the stairs went dark, and a grenade was tossed down the stairwell a moment later.
Facility Interior
"Can't say I didn't know what to expect." One of the riflemen spoke up, grimacing downwards at one the Teddy Bear corpses. "It feels like every corp messing with genetics can't help but have one or two secret facilities where they perform their... mad science." She shuddered. "And we haven't even seen whatever it is they have in those blacked-out areas they mentioned..." The squad mostly unaffected by the psionic explosion on the other side of the facility crawled through the hallways, thought their pace had picked up in the meantime, weapons raised and keeping an eye out for any sign of movement, kept company by the sound of boots on the floor and the rougher sounds of the Predecessors marching alongside them.
Four of the riflemen, three typical Dysonians including, the one complaining about the corporation, and one Predecessor hefting a large machine gun, approached the stairs and began advancing upwards cautiously. No more words were spoken, as their attention was pretty much directed upwards, weapons raised and pointed towards whatever blindspot came up next, but so far...
Nothing.
The nothing was starting to become a bit nervewracking. They had figured at the very least they would have heard gunfire from the upper levels, but the silence was more oppressive than anything else.
Unfortunately, the monotony was broken.
By something round bouncing down the stairs.
"GRENADE!" One of the dysonians spoke up, his voice breaking as they processed for a split second what was going on, and dove behind the corpse of one of
the Teddy Bears, the... thing's surprisingly large body serving as makeshift cover. A second one dove on top of the first, covering her fellow squadmate's body with hers, with room barely enough for the two of them behind the corpse. The third dove away and bounced off a few stairs with a grunt and a yelp of pain, landing in the corner and huddling up, covering her head in her arms.
The Predecessor, however, acted quicker than the others, extending a hand and grasping the grenade as it bounced by it, but before it could toss the explosive back up the stairs, it detonated right in it's hand.
Heavily armored as it was, the Predecessor had shrapnel tear through it's hand and arm, ripping it's forearm to shreds as wire and metal was torn through. It's torso wasn't unscathed either, with more shrapnel from the fragmentation slamming into it's torso, lodging deep within the predecessor's torso, but whether intentional or not, it managed to take on the majority of the shrapnel.
The Predecessor tipped over at that point, tumbling down the stairs, and the dysonian huddled in the corner yelped as she saw the machine falling down, crawling out of the way, just avoiding being crushed or pinned when it finally came to rest, optic lights flickering weakly.
"Get up, up, you two!" The second rifleman said, getting to her feet and aiming back up the stairs, and the sound of a second fireteam running up could be heard, to pull the crippled machine out. "We can't let them pin us down, get to your feet and push!"
The trio remaining in the first fireteam scrambled to their feet and hurried up the stairs once more, weapons raised to blind spots once again, to try to take out whoever had thrown the grenade, and keep the Synopticon from pinning the squad down in the stairwell.
<<Copy that. My men will move with haste but they are leaving behind traps to slow us down. We'll do what we can..>> The captain replied to Anette, then putting his helmet back on and speaking to the first squad,
<<Squad One, Double time to the upper layers! Enemy forces are moving with speed to target their HVTs and destroy the main server. Whatever the panopticon is doing here, It's up to us and our allies to stop them!>>
First Squad
<<Wilco. Squad, Haul ass! Lightning sweep for any blindspots and call out traps as we get to higher levels!>>
The Ghorran first squad would have met up with eachother and began sweeping in tow of the Dysonians. Following them loosely behind and checking for any blindspots that they might've missed. They would've also reported quickly of corporate equipment and materials that are undamaged.
The NCO would have been with two of his fellow riflemen of his squad at the end of the hallway leading to the staircase. Watching the Dysonians walk on up stairs to clear it. As soon as they heard the clatter of the grenade hitting the floor and one of the Dysonians call out the grenade, They would immediately stepped behind the wall, with the latter most soldier frantically diving behind it and being dragged in more by his fellow Rifleman.
<<Paka..!>> shouted the diving rifleman.
Hearing the loud CRUNCH and CRACK of the explosion, The NCO and a Rifleman would quickly lean out with their guns up to see if anything was coming down, and to also check casualties. Of which was the Predecessor which fell down.
<<Dysonians have one Casualty, Automatic Rifleman. Predecessor.>> The NCO replied as two other members of his fireteam came up.
<<Copy that. Take your fireteam and support the squad immediately. The other fireteam will hold the hallway and stairs and follow through when necessary.>>
<<Copy! Out.>>
The first Fireteam began moving out immediately, With a Autorifleman and the Assistant Rifleman coming up the Stairwells with the Dysonians, The assistant looking upwards behind him quickly as he stepped onto the stairs to see if anyone had been sitting up there to try and ambush one of the Dysonians. The Auto Rifleman came up the stairs after the assistant to set up the LMG and began scanning for target. Firing away for suppression at the first enemy or two he saw.
HQ
The Captain would speak up to the allies,
<<The Dysonian and my Squad have likely met enemy contact. One casualty sustained by a grenade thrown down the stairwell at (area name here). If I have to guess, They're likely keeping multiple units behind to stall us.>>
Asdryn would've been next up the stairs as the drone went silent, but the Dysonians seemed to be intent on going first. He was going to cry out 'grenade' as it's clicking came downstairs but the Dysonions were standing, quite literally in his view.
The mercenary drew what looked like a sidearm from his belt but the Dysonians stood already too close.
He had, of course, jumped into cover, but with the Dysonian machine taking most of the impact, what little remained of the shrapnel plinked of his own mechanical assistants. Now he stood of the corpse, or wreckage he wasn't sure, of the dead Quosx companion and pondered on the chain of events for a moment, something which likely took a second at most for the onlookers, though stretched like minutes in his artificial mind. He would've advised them to be more careful but now was not the time, in the end it was perhaps better this way, one casualty instead of many, perhaps it was intentional.
He holstered his side arm and instead picked another of the little drones from his belt which promptly floated towards their target location stopping shortly before and landing on the floor.
Asdryn looked into his HUD as the drone tried to find the enemies position via echolocation as another member of his group tried to find whether there were any other paths leading up there so they could perhaps flank them, within a reasonable amount of time.
Preparations made the APS group followed suit and ascended the stairs although keeping their distance from the front row, weapons at ready.
"So many stiffs just, layin' around," mused Larson quietly. The Dominion troopers had chosen to back behind that of the Dysonians, walking through the facility interior with a somber alertness, guns raised constantly.
"The synopticon isn't any old joke, Lars. Buncha smart maniacs with guns and psionics, and youve got a real problem on your hands."
"Enough chatter," spoke up the Dreft. "Keep quiet and focu-"
He was cut off by panicked yelling, and the remaining Shadow-Marines peered towards the commotion.
"Shit, Grenade!" called out one of the Marines, as they all dived down behind bodies or backwards towards other cover. They all hit the ground- Larson last- as the blast went off, shrapnel pinging around, but none of it piercing their armour or the cover they had dropped behind. They collected once more, and began to ready themselves to push up after the Dysonians.
"Ah, bollocks.." spoke out Larson, lifting up his helmet.
"Everything alright?"
"Nothing too bad, just," he put his gloved hand up to his left ear then pulled it back. Red stained the tips of his glove, and his helm closed once more. "Ruptured me eardrum."
"You'll be fine."
Menthus clicked down on his comms, speaking to Annette.
"Are there any side passageways we can use to move parallel to the other forces? If we can get around the right way, we'll get a drop on Synopticon forces, and get them caught between two fronts."
If all went well, he'd ask Asdryn's forces hanging at the back to tag with him in their flanking manouver. For now, though, his soldiers pushed up the stairs, hanging towards the rear of the formation alongside Asdryn's mercenaries.
"U2 is not responding. Looks like it went down." Their data-linked heads-up display showed the Cascadians that a drone that went up the stairs only moments ago had been downed. Apparently, judging from the total lack of return fire , which they knew very well would happen regardless of the durability of the drone, suggested that the next "trap", or line of defenders, were far-more capable than initially thought.
The Cascadians were too far away to feel the effects of the grenade, but they didn't know if it was fragmentation, smoke, electrostatic, or any other esoteric warhead. Luckily, it turned out to be HEF, so they and the rest of the mercenaries could recover and advance relatively quickly. A few of the squads stuck with the Dysonians and APS, readying their CQC weapons. A communique went through to Annete, asking for authorization:
"Permission to use high-explosive and electrostatic grenades!" The tension in the man's voice made it seem more like a order rather than a question.
The other squads were more comfortable flanking or otherwise outmaneuvering the enemy. A deep voice came onto the radio with Annete.
"Are there any alternative pathways? Don't want to be squished into a chokepoint."
“If I redirect you around the travel time to where the Synopticon main force is could take you hours, this is a big facility and time is of the essence. There are no other alternate routes within 15 minutes of your location. I know they are likely trying to slow you down, but the most direct route is the most effective I’m sorry, we can’t afford any setbacks” More terror laced the voice of Annete in response to Menthus and the Cascadians. Forward it was.
Gunfire immediately flared out after she cut the link, as the Dysonians & Ghorrans rushed the stairs and moved upwards to cover the blind spots a hail of automatic fire came straight towards them. A large open lobby of some kind, complete with waiting room chairs which were horrendously large and clearly not for regular people. Again, cranes crossed the ceiling, and it went up several stories at the very least with the upper floors able to look down onto their position.
At the far end were two other elevators which both flanked a reception booth. Surrounded by iron bars like a prison the autofire came from behind its desks. Initially perhaps a heavy machine gunner it quickly became clear that it was some kind of emplaced remote controlled gun turret, an old Capitol pattern deployable sentry gun which had been manufactured and used during 2AW and subsequently sold galaxy wide. It raked the stairs with high calibre rounds but it wasn’t the only target.
Two soldiers were taking cover behind the huge chairs, one of which combat rolled behind cover, the one who had thrown the grenade.
The other popped up to add more suppressing fire to the stairs, they wore olive drab camo, hoods and their eyes seemed to glow a sickening gold, small strings coming from each as they engaged.
The Automatic rifleman would swear and slid himself down while prone, Though his assistant wasn't so lucky when he turned around, Getting struck by two large caliber round which instantly knocked him downwards the stairwell and left him writhing. One round struck his arm, cracking his bone and forcing the Exoskeleton to tourniquet. The other left a large wound through his right lung, which instantly collapsed.
One of the latter Ghorrans would drag the man and began to check him as the others grimaced. Might as well follow.
<<First fireteam, One man down. Rifleman is checking on him. My Automatic Rifleman and allied forces are pinned up the stairwell.>>
The Captain paused for a split second.
<<Copy. Do what you can, I suggest bypassing the stairwell, out.>>
The NCO rallied his second man and stopped for a report from the rifleman.. The Assistant is dead.
The NCO felt a venomous pang in his chest, but, he can't stop here. He acknowledged and motioned him as well before attempting to look for a flank around..
"Understood Annete."
Asdryn cursed internally as he heard the automatic fire and saw one of the Quosx soldiers fly back down the stairs right past him. The others ran ahead again without waiting for his groups intel, though it was more of a tired protest than an actual complaint, in the end it was none of his business if they intended to get themselves shot and his own group could function just fine from the back line. More concerning but less surprising than that was the fact there were no alternate routes, this laboratory was built like a fortress, not unheard of, considering the state of the galaxy, though ironic that it now became their own trap. It also meant Vosh Inc. had likely been aware something like this could happen, raising more questions than answers but explained why they were so intent on saving whatever they may have stored here.
As they themselves reached the horizon of the staircase and were greeted with suppression fire, he ducked before coming into sight, but took note of the turret in the room. With a mental order one of his two assisting frames pulled a dart looking object from their belt, attaching it to the bottom of their weapon, then firing it with a precision shot at the turret, taking a hit to the head in turn sending shrapnell against the ceiling of the staircase, strangely enough to the outsiders, the damage didn't seem to impair the machine at all.
"Stand back for a moment."
Asdryn tested if the dart had hit home and tried to hack the sentry gun to change it's friend/foe acquisition so it would target their enemies instead. He was well aware that if they started trading shots their 'biological assets would suffer and if they used explosives it would be the facility, so if his trick wouldn't work, they would have to force their way through.
Two Dysonians had made it up to the top of the stairs before the turret opened fire alongside of the two Synopticon soldiers, putting a sizable hole through the chest of the Ghorran running alongside them and tearing his arm off with a second shot.
"Fuck!" The first one cried out as he hit the ground, large caliber bullets flying overhead, putting him in a blindspot from the turret and one of the soldiers behind a massive couch, while the second one, the woman who had rallied the squad after the grenade had been thrown, hit the ground as well with a grunt, rolling behind a chair as well.
The rest of the squad wasn't in a position to push up the stairs, but one of the riflemen threw up a cylindrical grenade over the top stair after Asdryn fired a dart towards the turret. The grenade tapped along the ground a couple times, before it let out a spark and began spewing a grey smoke, covering the entrance of the stairwell for the rest of the squad.
"Whatever you've got planned, hurry the hell up!" The soldier who threw the grenade said to Asdryn, her voice clearly strained from the sudden escalation of violence. Two Alliance casualties at least from this end and most of them haven't even seen the goddamn enemy!
The first Dysonian who made it out of the stairwell was still in the firing line of one of the Synopticon soldiers, so he quickly fired a burst in it's direction, trying to scramble out of the way further into cover. His fire was inaccurate, due to already being under some serious stress and having no time to take proper aim, but hopefully it would leave the enemy suppressed enough for him to find better cover in the meantime...
That is, he assumed the enemy soldiers would care about suppression.
”Understood.” Said the captain, whose tone indicated a hint of anger and frustration. An assault through a choke point was to be avoided, but in this case, they couldn’t.
He had an idea. Actually, he had two ideas. He patched himself back through to Annete.
”Permission to use EMP weapons?” That was his first one; the second one would be used in case he was denied permission, and in case the other attempts by his ‘allies’ failed. Then he quickly informed the rest of his squad and the rest of the Cascadian units involved in the stairway assault about his ideas.
”You got the ‘32 on?” The captain asked a fellow squadmate.
”I do, sir.” He said, motioning to the long weapon on his back.
”Good, be ready to use it. I don’t know how or what the others are gonna do.”
"...Understood." replied Menthus, unenthusiastically. He silently frowned, and ushered his soldiers forwards, not too long after the gunfire began. Full frontal combat, eh? He resigned himself to the idea that more of his soldiers may die to day, maybe even himself. The thought nagged at him, but it was something he'd just have to live with. He and the other shadow marines ducked down as they crested the stairs, exoskeletons whirring silently. The first to ever so slightly peek up was Larson, who held his rifle slightly up above him, using the link between scope and visor to get a good look at the synopticon soldiers shooting them. When he had a good shot- or so he thought, he peeked up and fully grabbed the rifle, pulling the trigger as a beam of plasma shot towards the synopticon position for a split seconds. Following suit, the other Marines continued to peek up and prod at the Synopticon soldiers with rifles and submachine guns.
Automatic fire ripped up the top step of the stairs as the gun and two soldiers tried to keep the forces pinned, a couple going down to the overwatch.
It was a well defended position indeed and to Asdyrn his assumption that it was built like a fortress indeed seemed to be the case. Everything was too perfect when it came to choke points, sight lines down onto where they were moving into and general resilience of the building. Whatever was here, Vosh didn't want anyone getting in. Shame that included the rescue relief teams.
The spike impacted the guns automated unit, breaking into its systems and pausing its fire just long enough to allow the smoke grenades to be thrown up to the top of the stairs. It obscured the area as the Synopticon troopers tried to blind fire into the smoke, seemingly uncaring of the inaccurate bursts fired to suppress them by the now moving up Dysonian troopers.
But one of them went down, a plasma beam punching through the upper chest as the Shadow marines used their gear to crest and engage. The soldier fell to the floor limp like a puppet whos strings had been cut but the other returned fire with a quick burst.
The automated gun, now detecting that it was being hacked, bricked itself as automated protocols engaged, wiping its system and jamming its firing chamber to ensure that it could not be used by the enemy. At least it was non operable.
After firing a return burst the line trooper now withdrew towards the other stairwell but clanging on metal grates echoed down from above. Just as the open area allowed those sitting in the waiting room to look up several floors above, those above had a perfect view of below. Four more Synopticon soldiers appeared three floors above, firing down through metal grated flooring onto the forces below, one once again setting up an automated gun turret to fire down onto the group. Three of the soldiers carried the same large calibre rifles but one man carried what appeared to be a pulsing tumour which emanated a slight glow, tossing it over the railings the lump of flesh impacted the floor with a rather unceremonious and uneventful splatter, sending bits of meat and blood all over the floor.
But the air where it had been thrown seemed to shimmer and glow. And whispers could be heard, voices which called to all of those nearby.
The Ghorrans were unable to find any place around to bypass the stairs.
The NCO was quite pissed at this point with the predicament he's in and turned to his fellow men.
"Nothing, We're going to try and push out-"
The Auto-rifleman would silently gasp seeing some bullets hit the floor infront and shimmied himself more down, screaming "FOUR CONTACTS! UPPER FLOORS!" He said, Returning fire from his gun with long bursts of fire. Sweeping it back and forth to try and keep them busy. However, He saw the silhouette of something drop and then a wet sound, then whispers.
He was very much in fight mode right now to bother with it. Infact, He found the whispers more annoying more than he did being scared of it. Which made him start yelling over his guns in a foreign language. If anyone can guess, It was probably a really passionately angry rant.
"... Nevermind. Get up there and support the gunner with suppression to let the others push-" He said, Being cut off by the whispers. With a shake of his head, he'd shake a Riflemans shoulders who got lost in thought of the whisper.
"On me Paratrooper! I'm sick of stupid fuck-fuck games and we're finishing this fight right now!"
The trio would brush past the Dysonians, the NCO in particular telling the Dysonian squad to push out when they have the opening to so they can fan out and control the room to take angles. The other two would quickly join up with the Automatic rifleman and began firing at the attackers, staying by the wall for some cover. Well, In abstract atleast.
"Sooner we get out of this, the better because otherwise they'll start throwing grenades at us again." The NCO finished before joining his men. (edited)
The other half of the squad finally arrived, the Combat Life-saver quickly running on up to take the Ghorran corpse and tag him before going up to the Predecessor to see if it was still kicking or not. They too were exposed to the whispers and took a moment to collect themselves before the NCO pushed them on. In queue to move up once the others have went into the room. Might as well be security in the meantime.
Asdryn half turned his head towards the turret as he noticed the machine locked up and then effectively self-destructed as he attempted to hack it. He hadn't quite expected they had countermeasures in place in cases like these, though he probably should have, the mortals sure were pesky but also crafty, he made a mental note that he would have to keep that in mind.
"Turret is down, room is almost clear." He noted as one of the soldiers and turret were taken out, only to be proven wrong seconds later as additional fire support came down from the upper levels.
"Curses.", he grumbled.
He shook his head at the Ghorran cursing whilst trying to supress the upper floor as the strange blob of meat came down from the upper floors, presumably it was some sort of psionic weapon, or a remnant of it, he couldn't quite tell, though it made him wish they'd brought a plasma thrower. He turned to the other half of the Quosx, the Dysonians.
"It is none of my business how your unit operates here but I would advise calming that man down before he draws more attention than he needs to."
He looked into the room, which was still somewhat smoky from the grenade earlier, maybe they could utilise that. He hated to admit it but his auto-frames were more expendable than most of the other squads at the current time.
This time he addressed everyone.
"I'm uncertain if supressing panopticon puppets will be effective so we will be drawing fire to the other side of the room and then try to go around the lefthand side, considering probably nobody brought any sufficient cover for aerial fire. I would advise you to move quickly and silently but you hopefully know that without me telling you."
With that he turned around, with a quick a order a group of three autoframes, including the one who took the shoot earlier, separated from their androids and marched into the right side of the room, somewhat spread out to provide not too easy of a target and started firing their pulse laser rifles at the upper floors to make themselves known simultaneously assisting the ghorrans in providing suppression fire, whilst trying to remain in cover against the trooper still on the same floor. In the meanwhile, the remaining auto frames and Androids moved around the other side as silently as possible with the intent of shooting the last soldier on the bottom floor as soon as they reached the point where they were in cover from the upper floors.
"Puppets?" The nearby dysonian said as he pressed his back up against one of the couches, trying to avoid the fire coming down from above. Given the nature of the adversaries they face, there was a hunch among quite a few of the soldiers that the enemy infantry they were fighting through weren't exactly the average soldier, but the confirmation of such a suspicion was regardless an unsettling revelation.
Splat
Whatever had hit the ground didn't create a dramatic explosion, no flash of light, just a rather pathetic impact of meat and blood, but the whispers that surrounded the nearby soldiers clearly signaled that this was anything but. However, the Dysonians might have been able to prove themselves resilient to this kind of thing, many of them familiar with anomalies across their home planet, voices from beyond...
Then again, this may have been something entirely else in particular.
It was maybe best to allow their allies to handle this strange thing in their stead.
"Alright, keep your heads down and keep to the edges, our allies here will try to keep those hostiles above us off our ass, but you're gonna need to move quick regardless, we need to get out of this killbox as soon as we can." The other Dysonian to have gotten into the room said, and one of the Dysonian fireteams got up over the stairway, and began making their way to the other side of the lobby, to the stairs leading up, keeping close to the wall and trying to take a route with the least amount of incoming fire. The two dysonians already up on the ground took positions behind the couches, firing up at the Synopticon soldiers, forgoing suppression at this point and trying to inflict accurate fire against their attackers.
Continuing the pressure, the shadow marines pushed forwards more.
"Contacts, Contacts! Friendlies are reading four contacts and a turret, high floors!" called out Larson, sending out data the allied forces had gathered through to his fellow marines, as his visor highlighted the synopticon soldiers red in their presumed position.
"Shit- I'll toss a 'nade!"
One marine nodded, pulling a fusion grenade from his belt and locking it onto a magnetic propulsion device on his wrist. He logged the general location of the synopticon soldiers, and the arc of fire on his smart visor, and got ready to jump out, grenade armed and aimed.
"Be fucking careful, Harrison!"
The marine- Harrison- Hopped out from their cover, and lifted up his arm. "Tossing!-" he squeezed his hand shut, sending the circular grenade up in an arc up towards the synopticon soldiers, closer to where the turret was. Before he could retreat, though, the whispers began.
That distraction was all it took. He faltered, and there was a distinct crashing noise as a bullet swung itself through his skull, and down his spine. He dropped to the floor in an instant, not even being given time to scream as his body crumpled in on itself, blood pooling out and mixing with the meat and gore of the flesh that the synopticon soldiers had dropped down from below.
"Star fucking damnit- Harrison is KIA!" Menthus said over the comms, then repeated "One soldier confirmed dead, im backing my squad up!" over the general allied comms network. He motioned back with his hand as he and the remaining 3 shadow marines pulled back to the stairwell, regrouping and reloading.
”We’ve got some cover! Move it!” The captain ordered as he and the rest of his squad filed up through the staircase and into the area where the smoke grenades had been laid down before. As bullets descended from above and hit the ground before them, though, they were forced to halt in their steps and retreat again to the staircase for cover.
”Get me some fuckin’ covering fire!” He yelled over to the other squads as they tried yet again to cross the area and get to cover. While they managed to tread the distance to do so, an unusual occurrence withdrew their attention once again.
It appeared in the form of a lifeless blob of meat, emanating a miasma of voices and whispers. What the hell were these people? More importantly, what were their weapons? As the air of whispers spread, the Cascadians found it hard to resist its pull.
”Hey! You got the ‘32 on?!” That seemed to snap one rifleman out of his trance. Successive shouts and questions followed, in which, one-by-one, the Cascadians were pulled out by their leader. Only one seemed unresponsive – he had to be shoved to the ground in order to avoid being splattered by incoming gunfire.
”Fire the fuckin’ thing at them!” He ordered again, and the rifleman obliged. After moving to a bit of cover, he aimed the long weapon and pulled its trigger. An invisible, coherent beam of ultraviolet radiation shot up instantly to the position of the Synopticon troopers above, inducing instant ablation and melting. The rest of the squad linked up with the Asdryn’s auto-frames and began advancing on the left side of the room.
The Synopticon soldier who had attempted to withdraw up the stairs was vapourised by the Shadow marine fusion grenade, his fire abruptly ceasing as the Dysonians stormed the same stairs he was attempting to climb. While the four attackers were two floors above they did not have much in the way of cover.
As the network frames and other soldiers gave covering fire and tried to suppress the soldiers they split, two going to the left two to the right. One was caught by the sheer volume of fire, taking a hit from the Cascadians to the left arm, spinning him around before Dysonian rounds put two into his torso. The remaining soldier on the left followed in a moment, the Cascadian UV laser slicing through the gangway they were standing on and causing it to collapse, sliced at the left most abutment. The two soldiers on the right side were clear by the time this occurred, although one had taken a Ghorran round to the leg and was staggering. Still the metal walkway gave way, the Synopticon soldier on it losing his footing before falling three stories downwards and impacting the floor.
The two remaining soldiers didn’t return fire and moved out of line of sight.
But the whispers were getting louder, a faint glow emanated from the air just above the steaming biological remains of the tumour.
The whispers then sounded like… children playing? Giggling and laughing…
A split moment later several Golden strings emerged from the disturbance in the air, snaking as though locking onto soldiers nearby.
They didn’t kill, but those touched were catapulted into their memories, taken to their most beautiful and touching moment of their life. It felt utterly real, utterly fulfilling. Whispers promised only one thing.
Join us, feel the fulfilment
As the Synopticon troopers tried to get away into cover, Asdryn was actually surprised, this was not the usual death-defying behaviour he would've expected, it did mean they would not suffer more losses, at least at this very moment. It seems even they had some sort of sense of self-preservation... if only to ensure the completion of their mission, which made them eerily similar to the Network drones.
He shook his head and the group rushed up the stairs with haste, trying to catch the troopers which were trying to get back into new cover before they could do so and complicate things further.
He saw the ground of one of the floors collapse through the linked footage from the drones, not one second did he believe the fallen trooper was actually dead, one of the Auto-frames on the ground level turned his weapon around, firing several bursts of laser fire into what may or may not be a corpse with the cold indifference of a machine, just to make sure it was one, whilst the other kept up the suppression fire. It was then that the tendrils extended from the other pile of meat which had dropped from the higher floors to everything in the immediate proximity and...
nothing. It was almost as if it hand't even registered the drones were there, did the things have no sensory perception beyond it's psionic senses?
Immediately alarmed, he remembered there were more troops giving suppression fire, ones who were in fact not machines, the autoframes head turned observing what had happened to the others in the vicinity.
Most of the Marines were untouched by the golden strings, moving on as they prepared for more of a fight farther into the facility. Larson, however, had been touched by the golden tendril of the panopticon. He gasped and went wide-eyed, his memories flooding to him.
The day the Great Stagnation ended, cheers and haphazard parades around the streets. The moment he was accepted into the marine corps, shipping off to basic training. The night he was pulled aside by his CO, commended for his accuracy, and offered a position in the Shadow Marines.
…And the year he spent in training- harsh training, but with a squad he loved. Meeting his girlfriend, the softness of her hair, and the way she spoke to him, always so chipper and happy; no matter what was happening. He wanted to badly to go back to that, to make it back to his girl and his squad, the ones that he conveniently forgot was standing around him right now.
Then everything collapsed, and his face stung. And once more. He flickered back into reality, the dreamlike state of the panopticon’s influence slipping away has he was pulled from the string, his helmet off, and Lendy slapping him heavily across the face.
“Wake the FUCK up, Larson! We already lost Drapine and Harrison… We arent going to lose you too,” she said firmly and with a hint of despair.
Larson had almost forgot she was right here with him. He’d missed the days she had been nothing but chipper and happy, but the both of them had seen too much for that, been through too much. But she still offered a smile, and grasped his shoulder for but a moment, then turned away, back to the fight that was sure to ensue. He knew she still loved him, one way or another- but now wasnt the time.
Larson put his helmet back on, and the marines regrouped.
With significantly less suppressing fire bearing down on the Dysonians below, the ones still in the open broke into a run across the room. Get out of this room, out of the open, out-
One of the soldiers stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, letting out a breathless gasp. He couldn't tell what was real at this point, the facility he was storming through felt so far away, so far in the past, so...
He could remember those trips to the museum with his Matron. Watching shuttles with his friends at the starports, eating takeout from that restaurant run by that friendly Skarrin lady, memorizing the different classes of ships, what nations they were from...
Maybe, when all this was done, he'd get a ship of his own. Visit Sohl. He had always wanted to visit...
The Dysonian collapsed, falling to the ground as one of his squadmates took notice and ran up to him. "I think Rikar's been hit!" He cried out, and rolled the fallen soldier onto his back, pulling him back out of the room towards the stairwell. "I..."
He noticed there were no visible wounds.
Then what caused him to fall..?
Then he noticed the string.
Further ahead, the Dysonians took the point of storming up the next set of stairs, determined to keep their momentum up against the Synopticon forces.
Seeing the enemy withdraw, The Sergeant would push up ahead. Firing some extra shots in single shot to take a angle on the retreating Panopticon, But they'd have slipped out by then.
<<Enemy squad has taken casualties. They're withdrawing. Hh..- We've been under psychological suppression. We will press forwards with the others since time is short.>> He reported before motioning the others to come on up. A droning headache would fill his psyche, Barely struggling to keep himself in reality. He'd watch the Dysonian sprint ahead and fall to his knees. Immediately concerned, He approached and put a hand on the Dysonian. Lightly shaking him. With a quick glance on his name patch, He'd call his name out.
".. Hey! Rikar! You there? Keep moving! You can't stay here-"
With a final shake, he'd sigh and pulled him behind something.
"Deedees, Headsup. One of your men is shaken. I have to lead my men." He spoke, running on down and getting ready to push out of the room with what's left of his squad.
The second squad began to walk up the stairs with the Combat Life Saver checking the room to see who was hurt. Taking up spots in the room.
The Cascadian with the long laser weapon watched as the Synopticon soldier fell to the ground, thanking his weapon and his allies for allowing him to take down at least one of them. He even patted himself on the back -- metaphorically -- and that's when he noticed the golden glow of the string reaching into his foot. He was too late to escape its grasp.
Instantly, images of his life flashed before him, pulling him away from the noise and the pull of the present. He recalled the moment he was awarded the Diamond Emblem First Class upon his heroic acts during the latter half of the Supremacy Wars - the only happy moment he could ever pull from that era. He recalled the many other, smaller instances of subjective and objective triumph: finding love; helping children as a private contractor for a far-away world ravaged by the Ancerious war; discovering his long-lost brother in a foreign land.
He wanted to return to it, to reach out to those moments. But he couldn't. His muscles were held down by something heavy and massive. What was going on? Let me go!
--
"Lock his armor down! Move him away, and don't touch the string!" The captain shouted as they fired their gun into the strings.
"Is he gone? Is he gone?"
"He's mumbling!"
With the fallen soldier ensured that it had properly died by the Network frame the remainder of the allied squads pushed up.
The Synopticon forces had withdrawn, allowing them mostly free reign to move along and upwards, onto one of the proper medical floors. Those caught within the Strings grasp would feel a deep longing, a need to return to those memories. The longer they felt it, the more they would need it, the need becoming stronger until they felt like anything was worth the return.
Come to me, shake off your shackles, your friends will only stop you
The whisper was powerful, tempting those to turn on their comrades.
Having climbed several floors and finally pushed through into one of the main medical floors of the facility the sight that now lay before them was one of a horror show. Blood and body parts coated the tiled floor and walls, Teddy Bears, completely dismembered lay scattered in parts and pieces. Their lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. Medical equipment on trolleys, benches, doctors and nurses all lay smashed and cut up, thrown against walls and more, the only sound being the trickling of blood and the soft warning klaxon which echoed through the charnel house.
Still as they advanced through the uneven body covered ground the first of the medical halls came into view, and they got their first look at what they were protecting.
Laid out into a gurney which was enough to hold an entire car and partially suspending from the ceiling was a blood-soaked lump of distended and cut open flesh. At first it seemed like some lab creature used to crow artificial organs, but then its face was visible as were tiny hands. While it had been violently killed, this monstrous creature had once been a man.
What the hell was Vosh doing here?
"C'mon, Rikar, let's... let's get you outta here, alright?" The Dysonian next to him said, quickly joined by a third as they began to carry his body back down the stairs gently, with some light hope that they might be able to get him help, one pulling out a knife and attempting to cut the string with gritted teeth.
Perhaps pulling him away would be the exact thing they could do to save their comrade.
Equally as likely, however, is that they were too late.
The rest of the squad pushed forward, at the head of the allied forces, alongside the Ghorrans, into the facilities and onto the main medical floor. They passed through the ruined furniture and lifeless bodies, guns raised and at the ready, checking every corner and room they came across to find and take out any hiding Synopticon forces that may have been waiting for them in ambush.
Finally, however, they found the main room.
"Via..."
The sight before them was... well, it was certainly unsightly for sure. "Is that one of those... uh... Coronans?" One Dysonian spoke up in disgusted curiosity. It was followed by a few uneasy chuckles.
"Stay focused, all of you." The leader spoke up in a harsher tone, and she gestured for two pointmen to peek into the room to see if there were any more puppets awaiting them, and waited for the signal that the way further was clear...
Asdryn looked the massive fleshy body up and down, as one of his drones conducted a scan of the biological tissue, as other members of his team checked whether all of the corpses in the room were actually dead.
---
In the meanwhile, the other two autoframes were still in the room they had been ambushed in but started to move up, though they kept their guns trained on the afflicted individuals, seemingly intent on putting them down should they prove a threat.
"Move them away from the strings immediately."
It came from the group comms.
---
Asdryn knew Vosh had been experimenting with psionics after seeking out the assistance of one of the Networks proxies, something he had learned from some of the data fragments he had been provided with only shortly before the mission.
Though he could've also guessed half of that from the fact the Panopticon appeared here, the fact that they only ever received what little they absolutely needed to know from the higher AI stirred discontent in him anyways.
He shook his head as the data from the scans came in.
"No, those are... Humans or were at some point."
He frowned, it was a miracle time and time again into what sort of monstrosities biologicals and especially humans could willingly or unwillingly turn themselves into. He could see why one would mistake these... things for a Coronan.
"We should continue moving, we still have time to check things when all of this is over." He pulled another drone from his belt and sent it ahead with the scouts from the other groups.
"Clearly not human anymore," Menthus said coldly, looking all the same over the fleshy mass. "Whatever the hell they've been doing here clearly has the panopticon worried, so i'd say it's best to not poke the corpse. Let me try something."
The dominion soldiers moved into the room quietly, a mix of disgust and uncare across their faces between the few remaining of them. They looked around to clear the room while Menthus moved up to the corpse, and a soft purple aura began to surround him- psionics. He was going to try to peer into the distended memories of the dead thing- if it isnt too late. He holstered his weapon and kneeled near the gurney, the aura of purple glowing brighter, and his eyes closing.
Meanwhile, Larson attempted to make small-talk with one of the Dysonians who happened to be standing around. "Helluva mess Vosh's asked us to clean up, huh? Seems they made themselves a big ol' target without even knowing it.."
"Sure looks like it." Came the reply, the voice of a young man crackling through the enclosed helmet he wore. "Though it would be a lie for me to say that I have any clue of what's going on around here... Via, I never even heard of Vosh or Synopticons before this mission, and psionics to me were only stuff conspiracy theorists ranted about on obscure interface boards up to a couple weeks ago."
He sounded a bit shaken, clearly someone who hadn't seen much real combat up to this point- But he seemed relieved that some of the people he was fighting alongside seemed fairly amicable during the quieter moments.
The species of the Alliance often were a bit distant from the rest of the galaxy, admittedly, keeping to their own unless nessessary, so an individual's confusion to being dropped into the much more complicated galaxy was understandable.
"...I'm... sorry about your squadmate, by the way. Those bastards had a lot of us pinned down..."
"If he's talking then he's still alive. Get him out!"
By the Captain's orders, the rest of squad began prying their fallen squadmate out of the area, careful not to touch or otherwise interact with the golden strings of the Panopticon. Eventually though, they had to try and cut the string, which wouldn't let him go.
"You two wait here until he's responsive. Don't go anywhere without telling me." Once again, the captain instructed. The rest of the squad would move with the other Vosh contractors, into the chasm of their test chambers...
The attempts to cut the strings ended in failure, the knives used to slice the ethereal threads simply passing through them like they were not even real. Only by physically moving the individuals away from the afflicted area did the strings finally release the individuals from their blissful experience but the siren song was powerful... Addicting even.
As the parties watched over the ruined corpse Menthus tried to peer into its last memories that still lingered.
The result was immediate, a cocktail of unimaginable pain and near death experiences interlaced with pure bliss and utter contentment. It was a powerful combination and more than enough to throw off anyone unprepared. What the hell were they doing to these once humans to make them endure such an oxymoron of existence? And why had Vosh gone to such massive pains to protect them?
The sounds of gunfire could be heard on the floor above them, and they were rapidly approaching where Annete had told them was a sensitive and important area. Screams and killing were all that echoed now through the corridors.
It was then that they noticed it, a faint glow, coming from the distended and horrific corpse.
A spool of string, much like that used by the Synopticon, but physical and without much of its glow and luster. Solarite, possibly a low grade version but again what the hell was it doing buried inside this monstrosities chest?
"Don't worry about it.." he responded to the young Dysonian. "War takes lives, and now ain't the time to deal with the loss. Not here." Larson looked away at the corpse and frowned.
At the same time, Menthus let out a deep gasp, the sudden pain and bliss shooting through his being as he choked and coughed, nearly falling to the floor. As quickly as it started, it ended- as he released his psionic hold on the dead thing's memories, coughing violently and taking a deep, shuddering breath. He shakily stood to his feet and grimaced, baring his teeth. He peered deeply at the string, and frowned. A knife was quickly tugged from his belt and he tried to cut his way to the string- grabbing and tugging it out to the best of his ability, disgust across his face the whole way through. Once it was out, he grabbed it tightly in his hand, and turned back towards everyone.
"There is nothing but death left here," He spoke loudly, lifting the string up. "This string is why the synopticon is here, killing so many. Im sure Vosh would appreciate it if we recovered their assets along our way and brought them back to them when all this is over." Menthus listened to the screaming and pain above them. "We must move."
Larson shook his head and shouldered his weapon, waving a friendly goodbye to the Dysonian and reforming with his group, as Menthus held the solarite string close, looking intently over it. He seemed... distant. Those memories had done something to him. Nonetheless, the Dominion marines began into the next room.
The Dysonian hesitated, then returned the wave, gripping his rifle and returning to his squad when the sound of further violence above them could be heard.
This wasn't any time to stand around and wait, they had been reminded. The enemy was still in this very building, and they had to finish the mission they had come here to do. Weapons were reloaded, squads reorganized quickly, and the Dysonian soldiers quickly followed the marines, the bulky predecessors taking point this time, machine guns carried as easily as a rifle, pointed forwards, prepared to make a desperate firefight as quick as possible against their unknown foes.
In the meantime, all the way down the stairs, the afflicted dysonian opened his eyes, letting out a gasp, and in a panic, pushed the soldiers carrying him away, resulting in the three tumbling down a few stairs, thankfully avoiding a much longer tumble. "What happened? Let me go, where'd the hangar go!?" He cried out.
"That string must have done something to him- Quick, hold him down!" One of the soldiers carrying him shouted, holding his arm and pinning it as it aimed to grab his knife, as the other soldier did the same with his other arm. "Pull yourself together, you idiot!"
"I saw it! I saw the hangar, the city, take me... take me back!" The afflicted Dysonian shouted, but his voice hesitated for a couple moments. Not sure what he saw... And he paused for a moment to remember. Those strings of gold, the memories they-
The butt of a pistol slammed him in the head, and he went limp once more.
"...By Sayyadina, did you really have to do that?"
"Probably not, but I'm not taking any chances." The two held the Dysonian up and began carrying him back to the landing site. Study and rehabilitation were in order here.
As rear group steered clear from the blob and the strings the two left behind APS units lowered their weapons and started to move up with the rest of the group.
In meanwhile Asdryn took a moment to scan the string which was stuck in the massive malformed corpse. It seemed to be different to the ones they used usually, it was physical, but still psionically active.
If this was why the Panopticon was here for they would have to ask what exactly it was and perhaps acquire some of their stock for research after this mission was done.
"Annete? What is your status? Can you tell us what these... strings are or is that also classified?"
Hearing the battle up ahead he nodded in response to the Dominion soldier.
"We seem to be catching up, good sign but we'll have to be careful. Everyone ready?", he shook his head internally, he would've asked them again to not charge ahead, they had already lost a number of people even if none of his own, perhaps they would actually listen if he would go with a more moderate approach this time.
He pulled another floating drone off his belt and sent it up ahead to assess the situation as the last stray members of the group caught up with them.
The Ghorrans would continue going on ahead. The fresh and the old one now together as they quickly yet so cautiously moved through rooms. Tense and eyes wide open as anything can very well come from a corner. With the caution, it was enough for the others to quickly catch up so they can move as one.
The NCO would grimace, hearing the gunshots above.
"I hope we're not late.. This better all be worth it." He thought.
"My status is they are almost on me! I don't know how long my security can hold them!" Her voice was laced with fear.
"The string is the purpose of this place, those who connect to the Panopticon can produce it within them, its a complex process I don't have time and I am not supposed to tell you but please they are almost here!"
As the forces moved up further the number of dead Teddy Bears increased. Until finally they reached one of the main floors.
Hundreds of medical rooms like the one they had encountered lined the massive almost prison like atrium, blood and bodies covered every inch as up ahead two squads of Synopticon troopers violently engaged the huge forms of the Teddy Bears. At the back of their formation stood a single man, holding some kind of scythe. Golden string seemed to dance and feel around him as he oversaw the final push into the command and control area.
"Welcome" The man spoke aloud without turning to them "To Vosh Inc. Pride and joy. A place where they subject willing subjects to indescribable torture which they themselves begged for just to experience what we took from them. All for some of this" He finally turned, a spool of the low quality Solarite in his hand.
He was young, easily late 20s, short cut hair and clear Restavian looks.
The solarite in his hand immolated a moment later and he raised his hand.
"You are too late, this facility has already been cleansed, they would never have let you know the truth if they expected you to survive here. You are as disposable as them" The man pointed to the disembodied Teddy Bear next to him.
This man seemed… Important. Menthus had no idea who he was, but his demeanor gave off power, danger. He pulled his helmet off and tossed it down. He pulled a pair of grenade-shaped objects, and placed them in the hands of the two soldiers closest to him, one a dysonian, and other one of the shadow marines.
“If the tide does not turn our way, use these. They can stop their psionics from functioning. They can stop mine as well, so be careful of their use,” he explained, turning away once more. He approached the Restevian, while the other Dominion marines formed in with Dysonians.
“Turn and face me, agent of the synopticon!” he called out, unsheathing the scimitar from his belt, and brandishing it in one hand. The other hand began to crackle as purple plasma congealed along the metal of his armour, pouring out like a liquidly lightning, of which he then used to coat the blade in it’s searing heat. Around him, embers of psionic power crackled around him, and he continued walking towards the synopticon position.
At the very least, he could be a distraction.
Back at the grouping of soldiers, Larson had unclipped the magnetic lock on his Lance-rifle, heaving it up as he began to take aim at some of the synopticon soldiers. The smart-visor in his helmet quickly connected to the camera in the rifle, and he started to relay positioning info, manpower, and anything else he could find about the synopticon forces. At the same time, he began scoping out a target to take out as soon as the first shots would begin to ring out.
The Dysonian- the very one who had spoken with one of the marines just in the floor below, took hold of the device with an expression hard to read under his helmet, and he clipped it onto his belt, before nodded, following the rest of his squad into the Atrium, which the squad quickly fanned out and took cover behind pillars, and whatever they could use as cover in general.
"Let the Shadow Marine handle the blondie." The order came through their radios, the Ghorran's radios as well. "He looks to be beyond our pay grade here... instead put some pressure on his goons, keep them from breaking out. We need some answers."
The sound of machine gun fire opened up from two different locations, as the robotic predecessors peered out behind pillars and laid out some covering fire against the rightmost Synopticon soldiers, with a couple of the fireteams moving forward alongside the supporting fire, the third fireteam staying back and laying out more accurate rifle fire against the hostiles.
All the while, the young dysonian with the grenade stayed with his back pressed against a pillar, peering just around the corner at the blonde man with the strange strings...
The fresh squad entered the room. The Female NCO would suck her teeth in at the sight of the man.
"Via- Via.. This might be it." She thought. Quickly rallying her men who were also quite shook at the sight of it all, quickly spreading out with the Automatic Rifleman setting up behind whatever was the best cover he could and just began laying in with his SAW.
<<Already on it.>> The woman replied. Quickly laying down fire at the busy Synopticon soldiers while the riflemen began took up positions to get shots off. The old squad of four would arrive quickly up the rear and began to take on a flank to help keep pressure of their allies by trying to gain a height looking over the enemy..
The NCO of the old squad would glance at the man with golden strings.
<<Above our paygrade, aye. We're ascending to look over the enemy and outmanuever his soldiers.>> He replied, Reaching the top of the stairs and moving along, hunched and weapon raised as his squad followed along cautiously.
Quickly they then set themselves up and began firing away. The riflemen seeking to kill the nearest soldiers and their gunner also simply just laying in on suppression of one of the further units that had been dealing with the teddy bears.
<<Would it be reasonable if we- Chucked a grenade down at one of the troops? Or we still on that explosives ban?>>
The Captains heart sunk at the sight. Whatever Vosh was doing here, It was indeed a terrible sight to see with the experiments laid out on the beds. In the meantime, He would give out orders to the Squad that was once outside to act as rearguard, setting up in the lobby incase to cover for their allies incase a retreat was called.
Asdryn moved into the room and began to fan out to the sides immediately trying to utilise any sort of available cover, moving into the first couple operation rooms if necessary.
He had no time to waste words on the man, but it was at least clear they had found who they had been looking for. He had been well aware there would be heavy casualties and Voshs questionable disposition without the psion pointing it out though he didn't even know how true that actually was for the AI's, still he had no intention of giving up on this shell today.
He hated to admit it but they were not equipped to deal with a psion of this calibre at the current time, it usually required more planning and information, though it also meant the information that he was here would be all the more valuable. Vosh had been busy since they had made the interaction and the Army of the Panopticon did not like it.
The autoframes affixed cylinder shaped objects to the bottom of their weapons, as they got into position and ready to open fire.
Asdryn eyed the surroundings as the first ones their side already led the attack.
They did have at least one advantage, having no soul or psionics, the synopticon soldiers could likely not sense them so long as they didn't see them.
'Attention, be prepared for flash grenades, when I give the callout.', it came over the group comms.
The man seemed to eye Menthus for a moment, he sighed bringing up his Unical scythe and throwing up a barrier around himself and his surroundings as the first rounds began to came in. The munitions deflecting off a golden shimmer in front of him to detonate on the walls or floor.
"Deluded, you choose violence when you can choose enlightenment and peace instead. I cannot understand why your kind refuses to aid in the next step for life in this galaxy"
One of the Synopticon soldiers went down to the initial fire, but the read spread out opening fire in return as the large open room became a battleground. The machine guns pinned down nearly 7 of the Synopticon soldiers behind a large locker of some kind while the plunging fire of the NCOs squad took down another two enemy soldiers before several Synopticon troopers also ascended to the next level, bracketing them with fire and trying to cut off their effective flanking attack.
As the gunfight well and truly got into its opening stages the man began to take some steps forward, striding over catwalks over open floors down to lower levels, he held his scythe at the ready, seemingly no psionics being used apart from the barrier that helped deflect rounds away from him.
"You should not have come here, I Jonan will put an end to you"
In a blinding flash of speed the man partially crouched launching himself upwards as if to use the scythe to bisect Menthus in a single clean but humane cut to his centre mass.
Interesting enough, as the two psions engaged the remaining Teddy Bears retreated through a large bulkhead which then shut behind them. Large metal cylindrical bolts locking. It seems Vosh would not give them any support for now. Was what Jonan said the truth?
Menthus jumped back and to the side quickly, barely avoiding the scythe as he brandished his sword. He eyed the wall erected around him, huffing heavily. No going back now. He straightened his shoulders, and looked Jonan dead in the eyes, his own glowing purple as soft embers continued fluttering to the ground around him.
"Peace cannot be bought until your kind are exterminated! You only wish power, control, death, like so many before have!" he yelled out, swinging his crackling right hand as a thin arc of plasma shot forwards, aiming to strike Jonan. With this, menthus charged in behind the plasma's wave, trying to use the light weapon he carried to his advantage as he swung it towards Jonan, aiming as if to slice at one of the arms leveraging the scythe.
Larson- and the other marines- pulled the trigger. A powerful beam of plasma shot from Larson's rifle and directly towards a synopticon soldier, while electromagnetic rounds and baubles of plasma from the other marines' weapons shot off towards others. One of them grimaced and grabbed a frag from their belt, pulling the pin and chucking it at the synopticon soldiers as hard as they could, aiming towards their largest concentration. At the same time, Larson's gravimetric cloaking activated, and he moved up the stairs, trying to get the closest vantage point he could without being in too much danger.
The argument between the two psions was audible for a few moments before it was drowned out by gunfire, and the space between them lit up with the colorful manifestations of psionic combat, something admittedly few if any of the Dysonians present had any knowledge about.
But that wasn't their concern at the moment- Right now it was the infantry organizing back around to return fire, though the predecessors were effective with pinning quite a few of them down, one adjusting it's fire to keep the heads of the group the Marine tossed a grenade at down, forcing them to choose whether to risk running through the withering automatic fire or try their luck surviving the grenade.
<<I believe Vosh no longer care if grenades are in use- and our allies here have decided to go ahead regardless. They clearly have bigger problems on their hands.>> One of the predecessors said to the Ghorran commander. <<If you want my opinion, fire away. And be advised, Synopticon infantry are trying to take advantage of the upper levels as well.>>
Suppression and supporting fire from the higher levels helped with the advance of the two Dysonian fireteams, but with the opening stages of the firefight playing out, casualties were inevitable.
A rifleman took a shot directly to the head, his helmet blowing apart in an instant and a dusting of chartreuse Dysonian blood spattered around the body as it tumbled to the ground, now limp. A second soldier was hit in the abdomen, tumbling to the ground and beginning to pull themselves behind the nearest cover they could. A few laid out automatic fire in the direction of Synopticon soldiers trying to pin them down, still trying to close as much of a gap as they could, assisted by more precise rifle fire from the third fireteam at a distance.
A voice spoke up from the squad, this time directed towards the man from the Network and his autoframes. <<Whatever you're planning, we need that help now, before we lose the advantage here!>>
<<That's what I need to hear!>> Replied a rifleman over comms to the Predecessor.
The rifleman would be in the process of pulling a pin of a grenade until he just spotted the several Synopticon soldiers heading up.
"Via- More contacts, right across!"
Having yanked the pin, he threw it over at the 'newcomers' before ducking behind whatever was available for hard cover, and the SAW gunner would quickly shift his SAW over to them before being momentarily pinned down. The NCO and spare rifleman with a grimace would move on down to try and get an angle on the new troopers that went up..
<<Fireteam one, ~5 hostiles are up here across from us. They overmatch us by one person, need assistance!>>
The other Fireteam continued to pour in fire for the Dysonians. The combat lifesaver winced at seeing a Deedee fall to the ground, and a wounded one pulling himself to cover.
"Hey-" He tapped a squadmates shoulder, "Cover me!"
The man obliged and kept an eye out as he fired downrange while the lifesavertook a good moment to wait. Suddenly sprinting out in a quick burst of power from his exoskeleton to try and close the gap. He stumbled on the way and ended up sliding towards the wounded soldier. Crawling closer, he grabbed them and turning him about to begin dragging.
"I got you bro, I'm bringing you to safety!" He said, Looking up as he pulled the Dysonian towards safety.
"All teams dim sensory input, firing stun grenades!"
The voice of the man from the APS came over the group comms, seconds before three of the autoframes raised out of cover.
One of them was shot down on the spot by the return fire, several shots piercing head and chest before it crumpled to the floor witha metallic clang, the other two raised their weapon, each firing a cylinder like projectile that detonated into blinding light and a sonic blast a few metres behind menthus, to avoid blinding him but still disorient their enemies.
"Be wary, they may not see you for a couple moments but they will likely still know your position via their psionics!"
The position of their allies, yes, though if they lucky not their own.
Several of the frames repositioned into the side rooms and began moving up through them in an attempt to get a more favourable positioning to pincer the synopticon troops, heading through the doors usually reserved to employees, staying wary of any enemies that may have hidden in the side rooms.
Those who had stood behind, a number of autoframes, Asdryn and another Android in power armour amongst them, began assisting in the suppression fire as the Androids tried to pick off more hard to reach targets on the upper floor with their gravitic rifles through the floors and ceilings.
"Move it, people. They're waiting for us upstairs!" Having left their incapacitated comrade behind, the remaining Cascadians rushed forward, increasing their pace as the distressed voice of Annete became ever more laced with fear and terror.
Having finally caught up to the firefight, they were dropped in the middle of a chaotic, messy, yet strangely organised cacophony of assault weapons, both friendly and Synopticon in nature. They caught a glimpse of a man who called themselves Jonan, or Jonas. They quickly joined in the fight in support of their comrades -- more specifically, by taking position behind the two Dysonian fireteams.
It took less than a second for the next Cascadian casualty. A high powered round from an opportunistic Synopticon infantryman meant the incapaciation of one of the Cascadian machine gunners. The medic rushed to pull him into cover.
"Sorry to barge in late, but what the plan here, folks?" The Captain shouted over the integrated comms.
"You have absolutely no idea what we wish for."
Jonan seemed to hold out his hand as the plasma wave swirled around him, unfazed by the attack or by the fact that Menthus had avoided his attempt to end his life quick and painlessly. Fine, the hard way it was.
Jonan twisted his scythe, knowing Menthus was attempting to get inside his guard and go for his arms, reversing his grip the psion stepped forward rather than withdraw, allowing Menthus to come in almost to run into him. He let the sword slip between his two arms and the scythe, the blade briefly cutting Jonans forearm before he violently yanked the scythe close to his chest, trying to catch Menthus arm and pin his weapon to the mans chest. Either that or catch the blade and try shatter it.
"We could have ended this quick. Why must you always choose more pain?"
One of the soldiers was cored by the plasma round, but the grenade thrown was swiftly caught by an unseen presence as one of the soldiers, appearing to be a squad sergeant grabbed it with his mind and threw it back towards the Dominion and Dysonian lines. His act however, earned him two rounds to the head as the Dysonians ensured the pinning fire was just as accurate. Another soldier went down to assorted fire as the fireteams moved up.
A second later the stun grenade exploded, the entire room whiting out as the bright flash encompassed all. But they had been correct, the soldiers did not relent in their fire, albeit it was slightly less accurate than before. The grav rifles were more effective, pulping two soldiers as they attempted to push forward from above. This in turn aided the rifleman on the higher floor, with nobody to intercept the grenade another two soldiers were blown apart. It appeared those above now had the advantage.
Still several grenades were thrown from the remaining Synopticon soldiers, who were very much now thinned out, two went for the upper floor with another two thrown at the advancing fireteams. Another grenade was thrown, this time another fleshball that seemed to splash over the floor emitting a scream that pierced through the minds of those nearby. It was like a smaller tactical version of the child they had encountered, yet more Panopticon nightmares designed to disorient and terrify.
"Because!" he called out with a fire in his eyes, "The longer I distract you, the quicker your men die around you, and the less of mine you slaughter in cold blood!"
Menthus grunted as his blade sliced the edge of Jonan's forearm, and began to pull it back, trying to jump backwards. Mid-jump he was caught by the scythe, his arm trapped by it as the psionic energies dug into his flesh, his body dangerously close to Jonan's. He let out a stifled grunt of pain as he quickly moved his freed hand. Plasma coiled around it, seeping out of his armour as if it was coming from his skin beneath, coating the dreft's hand in it like a sheath of scorching hellfire.
He swung his fist directly at Jonan's ribcage, intending to strike both a crushing blow and leave a coat of plasma across the psion's body. He grimaced as his trapped shoulder began to bend at an odd angle, and the pressure continued building up.
The blast of a grenade shot a piece of shrapnel through Lendy's shoulder as the other marine hopped in front of her, dragging her behind some cover. He began to dress her wound to the best of his ability as she cried out in pain. Above on the top deck, Larson shielded his optical sensors from the blinding flash as it played out, the automatic tint of the helmet saving him from blindness, but rendering him unable to make out details through the dark of the glass for some time. After it faded, he hefted up his rifle, and once again took aim, peering at the psionic barrier-bubble after fingering the dreftkiller device that his commander had given to him. If Menthus falls, and that barrier goes down.... He'll have to throw it.
There was a brief feeling of validation as Asdryn saw his theory had indeed been right, promptly cut short by the grenades flying his way.
He grunted beneath his helmet as the sensors notified him and in a movement so fast that it would not have been possible for a biological being pulled his sidearm, releasing a gravitic wave from it in an attempt to send them back to their origin as he pulled the trigger, promptly catching several bullets in the process, fortunately none of them lethal.
Having advanced through a couple of the operation rooms, the APS elements which had been moving around the main battle opened fire on the synopticon soldiers with more cylinder-like objects like the flash grenades from the sides and behind their lines, taking cover in doorframes and hopefully catching them off guard.
Asdryn, now behind cover observed the closed doors and the lack of 'teddybears', it didn't feel right, even disregarding what the man who called himself 'Jonan' said. A transmission went out to their landing ship, requesting info on the situation outside.
The Ghorran medic was able to pull the Dysonian behind cover, yes, but the sound of another sickening crack signaled the death of another rifleman, as the grenade found it's mark, splitting one of the riflemen in half and knocking their limp body to the floor.
Three had been taken down, cutting the team trying to close the distance in half.
Desperation began to set in.
THE PLAN IS TO STOP THESE BASTARDS. The Cascadian received a reply from the Dysonian squad.
What he means is, we need fire support. Our Ghorran allies need aid to keep control of the upper levels, and we need support on the ground. Who you choose to aid is up to you.
The remaining advancing Dysonians, using the stun grenade cover provided by the Network, found themselves pretty much face-to-face with a few Synopticon soldiers, and a couple took hold of their knives, drawing them, as they lit up with a neon blue and purple light along their blade, a bass-y buzz audible as their knives were activated.
'Tesla' knives. Designed to cut through flesh and armor as if it were one and the same.
One practically pounced upon a Synopticon, slamming them to the ground and stabbing their blade into their forehead. The other simply went with a slash towards another Soldier, aiming to practically slice him in half.
With a lot more Synopticon forces pinned down, downed, or otherwise engaged, One of the predecessors hefted their machine gun and rushed forward to get a more advantageous position to keep the pressure on the enemy, setting up behind a further set of cover, attempting to get a flank on the Synopticon soldiers, and once again laid open fire against them.
The lifesaver would be working hard to keep the Dysonian alive to look at the deaths of the Dysonians. But with the grenades going off and yellow dots from the HUD of his medical eyepiece would make him wince. Nonetheless, He kept his work, Scrounging through his IFAK and tending to the chest wound.
The other full Ghorran fireteam continued to fire away, Still giving covering fire. Though, when the Dysonians closed into close quarters, They would cautiously fire shots at the Synopticon forces due to some of the Dysonians getting up close and personal. The SAW gunner would swing his at that point to help assist the riflemen up stairs and the Riflemen began to fire off ponderous shots. The female NCO grunted,
"They didn't have to close in-"
The rifleman would peek to see the grenade get tossed towards their allies and gasped, He was just about to call out but by then it was too late.
"No!" He said, "Tricky bastards! They just flung my grenade at our allies!"
"I.. Shit, Guess we can't just throw stuff at them! They can't block bullets atleast.." Replied the Machinegunner, Flinching from a bullet smacking into the cover he's behind.
"We'll talk later, It's not your fault. Just keep fighting!"
The gunner gave the perturbed Rifleman a shake and got ready to try and return fire. Much to his luck when the APS called out stun grenades, The most with goggles would dim their visors and those with just eyepieces or nothing looked away until they saw the end of the flash.
The male NCO and his rifleman tagging along would press the advantage, Going further to try and get a easy flank onto the Synopticon troopers before opening fire on burst mode down range as the SAW gunner and the other Rifleman would get up and likewise began to fire down at their opponents across from them.
"How the fuck do we stop these fleshy monstrosities?" Yelled an unnamed Cascadian over the intercom as the sounds of his rifle firing filled the rest of his message, if only slightly. Perhaps he was trying to destroy the Panopticon weapon, or he was trying to return fire.
As the APS and Dysonian forces coordinated to advance, the Cascadians provided covering fire for them, peeking out of cover to hastily unload their weapons before diving back in. They also made sure to switch positions as frequently as possible to the best of their ability -- the prospect of being blown up the many grenades of the Synopticon troopers was not an enticing offer.
'What's the situation with Target Alpha?" A quick update sent to the HUDs of Menthus and his men revealed that 'Target Alpha' was a codename for Jonas. Seems like it was a status request only intended for them.
Jonan smiled "You think I need these men? They are not like you and me, they are soulless puppets"
He winced as Menthus punch audibly cracked ribs, the plasma coating eating away at the mans armour. The psion twitching as if trying to suppress the pain. In response he yank twisted the scythe aiming to pull Menthus arm from its socket and render it useless.
"You all lack conviction, if you could see what I see you would be in my very place. We have already won here, Menthus, why do you continue to struggle?"Jonans use of his name was almost siren like, threatening to pull the dreft back into his own memories.
--
The information packet from the ship in orbit told Asdryn that the whole arcology had been put into lockdown, additional bulkheads and more lowering to close off the already open entrances. It was something the Dysonian elements who had dug in around outside to prevent additional attacks also witnessed. Were Vosh trying to trap them all inside here?
With the covering fire from the Cascadians the APS and Dysonian forces moved up with the support from the Dominion fireteams. Losses were being taken, but they were clearly pushing back and wiping out the enemy. But every room they moved pass was a scene of the same, more of the inhuman flesh slabs dead upon gurneys or supported from ceiling hoists. There were likely the prizes that Vosh had wanted to keep alive, and it was looking increasingly likely that they were all dead. If that was the case, why were the Synopticon still here? To wipe the datacores?
With the numbers now falling rapidly the remaining foes pulled back, when engaged in close combat they slung their rifles, pulling out purple chakrams that sprung to life with black fire. Where they cut they did not just cut through armour and flesh, they cut through the mandala of a being. Meaning any slice was agonising and was prone to inflicting mental or brain damage as much as physical. They had no qualms about fighting the Dysonians in close quarters even as the others withdrew from up top, several being gunned down. With only around 7 enemy soldiers left not including Jonan it was a sign they were about to finish the fight here.
“Gahck-“
One of the Chakrams sliced through the armor of one of the Dysonians, cutting his chest open in a wound that shouldn’t have been life-threatening, yet left him sprawling back, screaming in pain and clutching at the wound. The other stumbled back, just barely avoiding being cut open herself, and with a free hand took hold of her side arm, pulled it out, and fired one, two, three shots in the direction of the soldier she was engaged with, backtracking all the while, as rifle fire continued to whistle by, Predecessors and the supporting fireteam continuing to advance further, putting more and more pressure on the last Synopticon soldiers.
Within all the chaos, however, one of the Dysonians, holding back and firing at a distance, looked over to the battle occurring between the two psions, and saw the bulkheads closing.
HEY, What’s the problem?! A Dysonian voice shouted at Annete over comms. You really gonna try to trap yourself in here not only with this maniac but with us as well?!
The young Dysonian heard this as well, and closed his eyes. They needed to end this quick.
Taking the grenade given to him by Larson, he waved his arm desperately to get the Shadow Marine’s attention. If they could coordinate, maybe they could knock out this Jonan’s psionics, take him out, and maybe have some time to escape before the lockdown truly started...
Asdryns mind was working as the battle before him slowly came to its end, the Synopticon invasion had almost been dealt with unless there was another group further inside the facility and even then, it was not like the bulkheads had slowed them down by any significant amount, so why go into lockdown now? Was Vosh trying to trap them here? Did they know too much for their liking? ...or did the Synopticon already take over the facility and was trying to take them with them? After several moments of deliberation, he gave an order to the ship in orbit.
"Annete, what is the purpose of this lockdown? Explain yourself.", he asked over the comms, it did make him realise they did not hear from her in a while, did the Panopticon get her?
Laser and gravitic rifles cracked with energy around him, vacuums closing after every shot as the APS troops kept up the pressure on the opposing force, meanwhile Asdryn kept an eye on the fight between Menthus and Jonan, even if they grenades should be able to shut down the psionics in the area, Jonan could still be a danger, looking at what the Panopticon created from their other soldiers.
The two Ghorrans on the flank would pick their targets off one by one, but it wasn't without difficulty. The NCO grimacing under fire before quickly diving to the side and firing off a quick burst that would drop a trooper dead. The other Rifleman with him would get shot in the thigh and was brought to his knee. He quickly fired off two bursts of his battle rifle in a panic at another and dropped another as well. With the NCO cleaning up another. He quickly ran over to check on his compatriots wounds and took out a Tourniquet from his IFAK..
"Hff- We got them good..!"
"Indeed we did.."
The two Ghorrans across would swing their weapons below after the SAW gunner quickly reloaded, Setting their guns to single shot to try and accurately pick off the Synopticon soldiers below without trying to hurt their Dysonian fellows in the melee.
The Ghorran Captain watching for his helmet would think for a moment.
<<Likewise. We demand answer, Annette. Why are you locking us in here?>>
Menthus let out a yell as his shoulder was ripped from it's socket. Pain rippled through him like a poison of hatred, his nerves screaming and screeching at him. His blade clattered from his hand as his fingers outstreteched, and his legs gave way.
A memory flashed, muted grey like an old movie, yet flecked with gold and yellow.
Rain pattered the roof, resounding through the small home. By his side a woman his age, laid against him and asleep. A false fire roared on a screen while heat was pumped through the house by air-conditioning units. In the other room, oil sizzled as something was cooked by someone, and another screen played the latest news.
"Welvar under assault as the Dominion's invasion continues. Systems to the north have fallen to Kepler, yet our nobles fight admirably..."
Time flashed once more.
"The Dominion's flag has been raised over the Starlit throne, Menthus," a soft voice sounded out behind him.
"Took them damn long enough" he responded, drinking from a cup. "I didn't risk myself giving information just for them to fail, afterall. Now we can rest easy, Laline."
She shifted, a crooked smile. A rare sunshine rose over the wartorn world, soft gunshots petering out as the last cells of resistance were cut down. Dominion vessels flew the skies, and...
His eyes opened once more and the pain throbbed through him once more, yet the memories only convinced him of his stance.
"Victory is naught but an illusion," he said through gritted teeth. "All that matters is doing what is right,"
The dreft took a deep breath, and focused his psionic energy. Purple ashes concentrated around the barrier behind him, towards his allies. His muscles began to tense up as his body gave way, pouring it's energy into the psionic attack- if he can destroy the barrier long enough for them to get a grenade through, they can win this- even if he must die for it.
"A desperate plea" Jonan shook his head, he didnt immediately finish Menthus off, instead he outstretched a hand towards where the Vosh command center had been located. The entire structure seemed to shake, like an earthquake as the reinforced walls came crashing in. A huge twisted chunk of metal and cables came flying through only to stop just inches from Jonans hand dust and debris falling from its mangled form.
With a gesture of closing his fist Jonan destroyed the main computer core of the structure and the data within. He knew Vosh likely had backups elsewhere at least of some of the data. But this would set them back.
"I could have done this at any point, I could have annihilated this site without stepping foot on it. But I HAD to Menthus, I had to look the old guard of my order in the eyes as I permanently ended their lives and denied them the paradise they abused and craved. That is the level of conviction you must have, even as you expend yourself now in defiance"
The last vistages of Menthus psionic power however burst forth a moment after Jonans final word, the energy flowing over the psion as if being engulfed into a plasma vortex. Jonan roared even as he brought down the floating AI core on top of Menthus, the multi tonne wreckage more than enough to crush him.
His barrier dissipated, just in time for the grenade throw by the young Dysonian to explode in close proximity. Jonan, pre-occupied with fending off the psionic attack was thrown clear by the blast, shrapnel scything into his body and scorching his flesh ruining the right side of his face and body.
He cried out in pain, struggling to raise himself.
The remaining Synopticon soldiers disengaged immediately, four of them being gunned down or stabbed by the forces still engaging them. Another died taking a shot aimed for Jonan while the other two helped their commander to his feet. He looked up at the forces who had wounded him, blood running from his mouth.
He spat that blood onto the floor in defiance "Ваши души будут в силе!" He shouted in Restevian before he and the two remaining soldiers, both injured simply disappeared.
--
"Are you sure?" Anette asked hesitating.
"Yes ma'am we simply don't have the forces left, even if they are the companies orders we would be suicidal to try and undertaken them" One of the staff replied.
"So we cant take them out? I see... The company will be upset by this but I don't want to die if we don't have a chance... Open the lockdown"
The large bulkhead that they had closed, now rendered moot given the huge hole in the concrete wall, opened as Anette stepped out with her staff and a host of Teddy Bears all looking skittish. The Vosh staff were dressed in immaculate white doctors gowns, with various tools and more attached.
"I am sorry for the lockdown, the system glitched as the core was taken out we are overriding it now. I thank you for your help here, defeating the Synopticon is a major victory for anyone. I will see you all are rewarded, despite the total loss of the project here" The last part was more muttered. She didn't tell them about the order to purge those who had come to help post op to keep the secrecy, she didn't have the forces besides how would she take down the forces outside and the ships in orbit?
"If you have any injured we can very much still treat them"
And just like that, it was over.
The final moments of the battle were chaotic, with one last declaration, Jonan had practically brought the ceiling down on the head of the other psion. The Dysonian pulled the pin on his grenade and threw it at Jonan, realizing it was now or never, and he scored, it detonating right next to Jonan with surprising force, as he leapt from the falling ceiling, falling to the ground as a chunk of rubble struck him, letting out a cry and laying on the ground, clutching his now wounded arm, blood already covering the side of his body and his helmet cracked open, revealing short, silver hair, light grey skin, and a wide, orange eye.
He saw Jonan.
He saw the commander of the Synopticon, the side of his body burned and torn, his now disfigured face glowering through the smoke. The Dysonian had been scared before, but now he was paralyzed, pinned to the ground by an overwhelming fear.
And then Jonan was gone.
He had shouted something- something he could barely hear and something that took the Dysonian's translator a little while to process, but what he heard caught him off-guard.
Your souls will be strong.
Was that a compliment? A threat? Was he speaking to his adversaries, his allies, or to the surviving employees of Vosh?
Those questions were pushed to the side when he looked elsewhere... at least three Dysonian bodies he could see. One missing a head and a right arm, one torn in two, one with a strange wound across their chest, and presumably at least a couple other casualties he couldn't see from this angle.
The young rifleman thought he could handle this, that he would be able to take victory even at a high cost, but not like this, not against this kind of foe.
He wanted to go home.
The bodies of the fallen Dysonians were collected and the wounded were being taken care of, but eyes were raised towards Annette and her assistants, weapons lowered and wary glances exchanged. Her explanation felt shaky, but none of them were willing to challenge it, at least for now.
"We have some wounded." The squad lead said, holding up an arm. "If they could get some care, that would be appreciated."
There were some mixed messages already. Did they fail? But they pushed the Synopticon back... were they too late?
The squad lead turned his gaze towards the other factions present... the remaining Shadow Marines and the mysterious robots so far still unidentified to who they served. If he could get the chance to speak to either of them, the Alliance might just get some answers...
Rubble burnt around them, embers falling like stars.
In the chaos, Menthus died. The AI core crushing half his body, pinning it to the ground. His own psionic prowess melted his skin, scorched his bone- and the grenade sealed the deal. It's psionic shockwave and the shrapnel and fire following it cut away his connection to the star in an instant- an instant of unfathomable agony before a metallic shard cut clean through his skinless face, dropping him dead.
While a psion of the panopticon could simply reconnect as soon as they were away from the grenade, someone of the star would have to manually find and reconnect to it's shard- meaning that even ignoring his injuries, he would have been dead anyways, after the smoke had dissipated.
Before he had been able to cast his own grenade into the fray, Larson was pushed back by the explosion, the upper floor collapsing and leaving him splayed out on the floor with a broken leg and more than a few cracked ribs. He cursed in both pain and disdain as he stared into Jonan's eyes, watching him slip away as the grenade that could have put him to an end laid uselessly, unarmed on the floor. If he had just thrown it, Jonan would have been dead- but he didnt; he couldnt.
Beside the rifleman, The Dominion marine flagged towards the nearest person, asking them to take over care for the Injured Lendy. As soon as someone had taken over, he began a sprint over to Larson, dragging him away from the raging flames of the rubble.
"Sh-" Lendy winced, looking towards whomever in the Dysonian ranks had moved to assist her. "Shrapnel, sh-shoulder. Think y- agh," she shifted her shoulder slightly. "-ou can get it? If not, a- a Medic?"
Save your strength, We will get you medical aid. The Predecessor’s mechanical voice replied emotionless at first impression but with an air of urgency, and Lendy could see the other Predecessor setting its machine gun down and pushing aside rubble to try to help recover Menthus’s corpse. Lifesaver, This way, we have more wounded here. He was calling to one of the Ghorrans, the nearest medical personnel. Vikha’Shau has been injured as well by the rubble. See that his wounds are tended to as well.
“You all better fuckin hurry, some of these wounds don’t seem to be natural. This one’s rapidly getting worse.” An audible reply from the radio. “Hold still, dammit, I know it hurts, b-but it’s all gonna be all right. Those Vosh folk will help, just hold on-“
Lendy was safely pulled away from the rubble, set down on the floor, the Predecessor gestured to the other Marine carrying Larson, signaling him to drag the wounded marine over where the Ghorran lifesavers could patch them up, and he began to recover the trembling Dysonian rifleman.
The Captain would acknowledge Annette. Still suspicious, but for now he'll let it slide as he had something more on his radar at the moment. He kept the Armor hunters behind but would send up the regular squad sent with them so that their Medic can go and properly tend to the wounded when they get there.
<<Keep your eyes open. Something very well could still happen. Aid the wounded and prepare them for immediate evacuation.>> The Captain would radio to his squads.
<<What of the others?>> One of the NCOs spoke up.
<<You know the drill, Aid them as well as you can, Their comrades will handle the rest for them.>>
The Combat Lifesaver would nod once he finished patching up the Dysonian, Beginning to work on Vika'shau. The Female NCO would order her squad to secure the perimeter, Except for her basic rifleman which she ordered to recover any wounded and bring them to here. Once the Medic arrived, he took over for the person the Lifesaver was on, and the chain continued..
The battered squad up top would hold their position just incase.
There was nothing left of Menthus but bones. Bones and blood and ashes.
Maybe it was better to leave him behind?
With the gesture, the marine moved Larson into the greater mass of people, setting him down beside Lendy as he leaned down, tending to small shrapnel wounds, cuts, and the broken bones. Larson whinced but let out no noise. A wetness pooled at the edges of his eyes, tears streaming down. So many lost here, for nothing. So many lives. People he knew, people he couldve known, and people who who couldve lived a better life.
Drapine. Tricked and turned into an empty husk by the shell of a weaponized child.
Harrison. A bullet to the skull and down his spine, for the sake of taking out a single synopticon position.
Menthus. Died trying to save them by a psion of the panopticon, in utter vain.
Countless Dysonians, Ghorrans, and Cadians. All the dead soldiers and disgusting teddybears and employees of Vosh Inc.
Even he himself almost met a fateful end twice, the panopticon's call nearly taking him away, and then the collapsing rafters and floor rendering him in his current state of injury.
He closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. Even though he couldnt stop Jonan- a fact that would follow him for the rest of his waking life- he saved Lendy, who laid beside him bleeding. Even David, the third surviving marine, was bleeding as he bravely chose to tend to his friends before himself.
That'd have to be good enough.
It was over.
The realisation came only slowly even as Jonan had disappeared and the Vosh personnel entered the room.
Over.
Surrounded by corpses, bullet cases and debris Asdryn stood, still behind cover as Anettes words rang hollow. He knew what they had wanted to do and he could tell with a single look, that all that prevented them from doing it was the simple lack of assets, to think not only 15 minutes ago they still tried to save her made him wish she would just eat her words. Damned corporate human.
He looked around as he checked the status updates from what was left of his group, they had taken astoundingly little losses, two of the autoframes had been destroyed, some others including him had taken mild damages, though all in all nothing compared to what the other groups had suffered, the Quosx had taken several losses, the Dominion group had lost almost half of its members, the Cadians he wasn't even sure, perhaps exactly because of their losses it was that they had taken so little.
...or perhaps they had taken so many because they did not listen to him?
It didn't matter in the end.
"No, we do not need any medical attention we will be... collecting our assets and then take our leave, we will be standing available for question for maybe another thirty minutes once we reach the shuttle and then depart."
He still didn't quite trust Vosh, even with what they said and how little... 'soldiers' they had still available. There was the tiniest voice in the back of his artificial mind that told him that, in some abstract way, he still owed the other mercenaries, even if it was only out of common courtesy, so he took his sweet time to collect all their fallen assets. As long as they were still around Vosh was less likely to try anything fishy.
He frowned in his suit remembering Jonans last actions and words. What had they achieved today? Why did the Synopticon soldiers not do this from the start? Were they perhaps not actually capable of it? Was it all just a bluff?
Or did they test them?
He shook his head and gave new orders. That was something the Proxies would have to work out.
The Teddy Bears spread out among the wounded, offering medical aid. Despite their fumbling large appearance they were expert medics and brought out advanced pieces of equipment to help tend wounds. Those inflicted by the Phase Chakrams however were beyond their capability, at least for now. Damage to the body however devastating could be over time repaired, but damage to the mandala and soul was an art not even Vosh could help with. Still Anette kept to herself and her remaining staff, seemingly unwilling to interact with those who had saved her.
SIGEC was transferred from Vosh directly to the participating parties, as well as various discounts off Vosh products. A seemingly small amount compared to what they expected. But payment was payment, and Adryn had been right, there was more at play behind the scenes. The company had taken a massive hit here, but it wasn't all over. They did have data backups off site, although nowhere as extensive as this operation.
Even as the various forces left the facility, through broken corridors littered with dead, they soon found themselves out in the frigid frozen wasteland of snow and ice outside.
The facility now was barely visible, a black ominous tower half obscured by the snowfall.
Vosh would use what was gained to make the break into the market it wanted, although nowhere near as ground breaking as they had hoped. Still many had died here, and the nagging feeling that Jonan could have ended it at any point left the question of why.
Why all this?
And the more important question.
What was to come?
Annete ticked off the checkboxes in her head, quite literally in fact as the HUD she wore behind her eyes tracked and correlated data of the procedure she was watching. Every step ticked off and filled parameters set in stone by Vosh Inc. and as part of the deal that the company had with its clients, these inhuman things that were being operated on. Annete had done this liaison job here for months and yet this posting continued to make her sick. Watching the operations being conducted never seemed to get any better.
The thing in front of her was once human, now it was a bloated half tumour on the very verge of death. Cables and pipes fed enough chemicals into the thing to kill any normal species outright through overdose, but here they kept it alive, sustained it, but also killed it. Vosh Inc. was one of the galaxies biggest corporate brands when it came to genetic and designer engineering but there was one market they wished to corner and capitalise first. Artificial psions. In a move which had been frantic they had bought and scraped together information and data on Capitols first Avalon project when the nation fell apart, but it was the next recovery they managed which had been the golden egg. In exchange for fleeing Rubikon, Vosh Inc. would harbour the old guard survivors of the Brotherhood of the Great State, the original handlers and creators of the infamous Army of the Panopticon.
The BGS demands had been specific. They were sequestered away to this forsaken arcology, hidden under a dome in a crater and surrounded by snow and ice. Every piece of information inload and outload had been specifically tailored to create the illusion that the BGS had won, that the galaxy had accepted their insane socio-political truth and a new ‘people’ to call their own had been engineered off of the Capitol Brute strain to care for and enact the old mens insane rambled wishes. These teddy bears were large and droopy affairs, pure empaths who tended to every whim and so the BGS elite had descended rapidly into little more than pleasure. They had placed themselves repeatedly on the very edge of death, diving into the Panopticon like they once had, almost like junkies trying to relive their first high. Vosh didn’t care about what the BGS remnants did, they only cared about their end of the deal.
In exchange for giving these… things what they wanted, Vosh monitored every inch of this hospital arcology, they took biometrics and other information from the creatures that spent their days in ‘paradise’ and they used it to build up their understanding. But the most important part was the string production. Any of the Panopticon can produce the impressive Solarite string, but these long-used creatures created it inside of themselves, every few days the teddy bears would conduct surgical procedures to open up these man-whales to extract the string and harvest it. Vosh could use it for their own projects and while it was faint and far from potent anything would do.
This place was a nightmarish hospital paradise of dysfunctional genetic creations and half dead wash outs trying to relive their glory days. But it furthered the corporation’s ambition, they would create artificial psions soon they just needed more data.
----
One moment in the strange new Liminus, the next they were flying into a blizzard.
Jonan wasn’t quite used to this new Liminus yet. Admittedly he hadn’t spent much time in the old one, but now that many above his station had lost their lives Jonan had been promoted. Before he even knew it he was now conducting a raid on some place he had never heard of and commanding the Synopticon forces. He was originally from a place called Flareview, owned a club called N0DE before he had almost died, he didn’t quite know what happened next, but he had ended up with the Synopticon folks. He had learned incredible things and he knew only more awaited. He was eager to prove himself.
The Liminal Guidons flew into the blizzard at speed, Jonan and his strike force rocking as they made a rapid descent, the Golden strings of the craft causing snow to melt as it sped past them. Up ahead was the target, a decadent mansion where the remains of the BGS sold their secrets to corporations just so they could desperately relive a sliver of their past glory. Jonan had not been a member when the BGS still controlled and created the Army of the Panopticon but he had read all the history.
What a sorry end to those who helped meld the inheritors of the galaxy, of the psion.
The craft came in low, flying through the atmospheric shield the arcology was not protected from air attack. Bombing the facility would only accomplish half the mission, they had to wipe the data Vosh acquired already. Jonan took a breath before he slid through the bottom of the crafts exterior like it wasn’t there, strings cradling him and his force as the Guidons came in low and slowed down allowing them to drop into the grounds.
In a matter of moments, the strange brute things which had watched them nearby were put down by precision headshots. Jonan hefting his scythe gestured for them to move out as the Guidons flew off and out.
The mission was on.
---
It took only moments before the surveillance system notified them that they were under attack. Annete desperately relaying the information back to HQ. The enemy wasn’t jamming, likely they thought their mission could be conducted swiftly, but it wasn’t until she saw the forces as they breached into the facility that she felt true fear. The Army of the Synopticon was emblazoned on their uniforms, the Panopticons lackeys.
She skipped protocol, alerting the nearby communications hub and putting through a call for aid.
Vosh Inc. needed immediate assistance, the Army had been spotted and was here targeting their facility. Anyone who could provide support would be generously paid in genetics contracts and SIGEC. As she waited, it was all a matter of time.
'Receiving Transmission...'
The AI of the Network ship awoke, having been sitting in deep space and patrolling for notable events, it had picked up the Vosh Inc. transmission.
'Evaluating Data...'
Sub-AI sprung to life determining the contents of the emergency call and trying to discern its priority.
In a way, it was lucky they had picked it up, between the number of necessary projects currently running in the Network and the ongoing war, the patrol density had been diminishing significantly, though given the scale of the emergency call it had also been hard to miss.
'Panopticon incursion, Vosh Inc., notable genetics company.'
Panopticon.
Almost immediately the distress call sprung to the top of the priority list.
Further AI was awakened, frames were brought out of maintenance cycles, rudimentary slave AI uploaded to them, command frames awakened, copies of Sapient AI integrated into Android bodies.
The Panopticon.
The Network had been hunting them and information about them for a while now and although they had been almost equally as elusive as themselves, their plans necessitated actions, whilst the Network simply had to observe and make connections, prepare for cases like these.
They had been on high alert ever since the quite open attack on the Minevan psionic beacon.
Most of the time, it went without result. Pirate attacks on a lone ancerium miner, Bedlam raids on neutral nations, ghost strikes on war related factions. Today, it was different.
'Sending Information...
Receiving orders...'
Mission checkmarks were passed as the ships skip-jump drives charged up, the mission had received confirmation and priority from the Custodian. They took little interest in the actual reward but if the Panopticon attacked a company mostly known for aesthetic genetic engineering, there had to be more behind it. All the more reason to intervene even beyond the involvement of the Panopticon in of itself.
'Engaging visual cloaks.'
'Linking ftl-drives of slave-AI vessels.
'Preparing for jump...'
Space bent, a flash of light from a moment of quantum decoherence.
The patrol arrived in the system, having taken the last stretch with simple alcubierre drives, its identity veiled by fake IFF and visual cloaks, drop ships preparing to go down to the planet.
The hunt was on.
IDS See No Evil
Saboteur-Class Corvette
"Marines, Attention."
"Sir!"
Menthus smiled, his green eyes shining oddly in the red overhead lights of their transport's loading bay. His black hair had recently been cut short- much to his dismay- and he wore the Black-and-maroon armour of the Morati he worked with- the Soldiers under his command. The colours nicely accented the dark browns and blacks of his skin, hair, and tattoes, he though. He straightened out, and began to speak to the five helmeted soldiers before him- standing at attention.
"Morati! Marines! We are approaching our target in Kyalam. We've all heard the mission details, but I'll muse over them once more for the sake of memory. We will be assisting Vosh Inc. A research base of theirs has been targeted by Synopticon soldiers, and they've put out a cry for help. Today, we'll be dropping in and taking up orders from allied command. Our job is to take out Tactical Objectives, individual threats, lay ambushes, and take as much video footages as our helm-cams can transmit skyward-" he emphasized, pointing towards the roof of the ship, "so we may learn as much about the psionic soldiers currently wracking the galaxy as we can. Understood, Marines?"
"Sir! Yes, Sir!"
One marine in particular spoke up; Number Five, the sniper and special-warfare operative. His armour was far lighter in weight than the rest of them, and his massive lance-rifle hung from the mag-clamp on his back like an unintentional threat always looming behind him. His Visor lifted, and revealed a light-skinned man with bright reddish-orange hair and freckles.
"Captain, permission to speak?"
"Permission Granted, Larson."
"Why we takin' orders from some wackoes on the ground we never heard of before?"
"Because they're at the center of the combat, and they'll know who or what needs to be taken down. And to be clear... We take targets, not proper orders. Anything else?"
"Nah, Cap'n," Larson responded, his visor falling down over his face, covering the toothy grin that had appeared onto his face.
"Very well then. We'll be dropping from hyperspace in a few moments. Hold on to something, Morati."
"Aye, Sir!"
Kyalam System
There was a silent thump, and the IDS See No Evil dropped out of hyperspace, halting to a near-stop as it angled to get close to the planet's surface. Its transponder had already been cut dark- giving it no IFF readings; and it's stealth-drive had kicked on, drinking down sinarium and projecting a cloaking field around the craft, directed towards the vessels of the Synopticon in an effort to not waste energy cloaking the entire vessl.
A small bay opened up, and a cloaked transport dropped down- it's fusion drives on full burn as it turned it's nose towards the surface of the planet, and their designated drop-zone. (edited)
DSS Index of the Moon
Ardieri Class Gunship, Patrol Loadout (Corvette for reference)
The crew of the ship were on General Quarters in their spacesuits. Keeping an eye out for anything strange or otherwise. All in all, it was a slow and boring shift of their patrol with nothing exciting occurring, until they finally picked up something. Specifically, A distress call.
The Captain floated on into the bridge and pushed off a wall to the bridge to inquire on the finding.
"Communications, report!" She spoke up, Visor up to show her face.
The specialist would turn the seat around and gave a quick salute before speaking up, "Ma'am, We've picked up a distress call by a nearby world. A genetics company called Vosh Incorporated is under attack by a enemy force. I was able to catch the word 'Panopticon'."
The Captain would pause for a minute, silently gasping before nodding.
"Noted. Get the word out, Command would like to know it."
With that, The Specialist turned back around and began transmitting the news over to their mothership, the Corvette Carrier 'Twenty Pairs of Eyes'.
Kyalam System
QEF Lunar Dagger of Majiir, transport corvette
Another Thump echoed through the vessel as it exited hyperspace, the lights brightening throughout the ship as the ship’s power was given more leeway from so much being drawn to their hyperspace engine.
A joint operation had been swiftly organized and equipped, especially after mention of the Panopticon was detected. After such a public display of malice towards the denizens of the galaxy in general, the fact that they were already acting so brazenly in the Alliance’s general area brought some level of alarm, and in response several units were chosen for their specialties and experience in the field, with the results hailing from the Ghorran worlds and the Dyson city, mobilized and outfitted and quickly ready to be deployed, now waiting for their transports to launch and take them to the surface of the world below.
There was a heavy sense of unease and the natural fear of the unknown permeating the interiors of the transport shuttles. The unfortunate truth was many, if not all of the soldiers taking part in this mission had little to no experience with Psionic abilities. Such gifts were not found throughout the words of the Quosx Alliance, and many citizens had up till recently been convinced something like that was a folk tale to begin with... so they were left with unanswered questions and morbid curiosity.
Biological Successor Dysonians made up the majority of their force of three squads, each made up of four man fireteams, but bolstering their numbers were a small number of Predecessor combat models- heavily built humanoid robots with sleek, sturdy armor and glowing green optical sensors shining under their metallic hoods, numbering for about three per squad.
[Mission launching in ten...] A genderless voice spoke up over the intercom, startling a few soldiers, who had been sitting in silence for a few minutes now.
[Nine... Eight...]
The shuttle’s engines began to spin up, the whine becoming louder and louder as the shuttle shook.
[Seven... Six...]
The whispers of prayers could now be heard, asking for blessings from The Guardian Moon and Sayyadina herself. Their faith in the deities that had protected their people so many times before, unshaken even in this suspense.
A few clasped a talisman in their hand, a metal circle with a scrawl rune imprinted on the surface, for example.
[Five... Four...]
The shuttles shook lightly as they began to move, slowly rising up from their positions in the Corvette’s hangar.
[Three... Two... One.]
The engines suddenly shifted to full throttle, and three shuttles fired from the Corvette, speeding down towards the planet below, with their own countermeasures in play to avoid detection by the forces attacking the facility.
Kyalam System
GSN Taftak, First of Two Ghorran shuttles docked with the Transport Corvette.
Inside the Taftak was a rather idle mood. Some were excited to be fighting, whether for the first time after a long time or just first time ever instead of just mucking about doing occasional trainings and the like. Some others were understandably quite afraid, whether first time or because of Psionics.
Amongst them was a squad of Armor Hunters, Who had parachutes of their own and were adorned in tribal or animalistic marks, albeit minimalist to preserve camoflauge. With two men of each fireteam carrying parts to a AT Rifle. Beyond that, while it may seem they're quiet, they actually quietly conversed amongst themselves. Just about anything really, family to the mission ahead.
The captain of the platoon would sit on down, Visor up and strapped in. First, he waited for the ship to undock, Following the DDF shuttles being sent planetside while in formation with its other.
Eventually, He then spoke up.
"Heads up, Paratroopers! I'd give a pep-talk but I trust you're all in the right motivation to fight. We don't have much topographic intel, But our objective is to help clear and secure a Corporate facility. Our enemy: Whatever's Paus ass is an Panopticon. From what intelligence can gather, They're a militant unit capable of Psionics. So try to keep yourself concealed or protected as much as possible since for all we could know, They can pop our heads. They're also no slouch in fighting, so don't underestimate them. That aside, You're free to engage the enemy, However try your hardest to not cause any collateral damage. Civilians are more than likely to be in the area, and also so we don't get bad rep.
That'll be all, Soldiers. May our battle be great!"
"For the Stars!" Replied the Paratroopers. A soon as they said that, Their shuttle began reentry...
[X:COMM—STATION-V1]
{(DETECTING EXTREME-LONG RANGE TRANSMISSION…)}
//DETERMINING TYPE…//
//DECRYPTING…//
…
{(CONVERTING QUBITS…)}
…
…
{(CONVERT SUCCESS)}
{(DISPLAY MESSAGE? Y/N)}
…
N
”No, wait, come back! God damn it, I need to be more aware of what the hell I'm actually doing.”
{(RETRIEVING MOST RECENT…)}
{(DISPLAYING…)}
”Now that’s quite interesting…”
——————————————
The Vosh distress call went out to several different receivers all at once. First to a few relay stations in the middle of interstellar space, then from those relays to more repeaters and receivers until the message reached a sizable minority of Cascadians that were connected to Ancnet. Most steered clear of the Panopticon, and the ones that did want to follow the message to its source were met by the Federal Government, whose usually slow and bureaucratic pace quickened in response to a threat so distressing. Within the cosmic equivalent of “a few moments”, an inter-corporate force made up of mostly private military contractors supervised by NRN and NRA elements set off for the Kyalam system.
(1) Ellipsis-Class Destroyer (Modified Elliptical-Class Destroyer)—Pascal Arlein Military Solutions
PAV Fireburner
(1) Meridian-Class Frigate (Modified Elemental VC-Class Frigate)—Serracuda Inc.
SEV Isaac Sigms
The two ships of the Cascadian contingent dropped out of superluminal speeds in a brilliant and not-so-subtle flash of light followed by a flurry of high-frequency electromagnetic radiation, detectable to all observers in the area. Once the main fusion drives powered on, the two ships began accelerating at breakneck magnitudes towards the planet.
It soon became clear, however, that due to tiny miscalculations, as well as the relative age and functionality of their Alcubierre Metric drives, the two ships had actually “dropped into” real space thousands of kilometers from their intended entry point. While the distance poses no threat to the logistics of the operation, it does mean that this particular contingent will be delayed in deploying their terrestrial units.
While the two ships are in motion, the military contractors inside review their plans as well as any information and intelligence regarding the Panopticon Army. Cascadia has had very little, if not zero interaction with the AOTP, so information regarding them is quite scarce. Still, whatever tidbits of intelligence they can gather on them paints a distressing picture; an army of megalomaniacs that worshiped a presumably higher plane of existence, the power of which was—according to them—unfathomable.
Kyalam System: Vosh Inc. Space
“You are to protect the assets at all costs, do you understand? Any risk, any chance you need to take to keep them intact you do not hesitate. If you do, if this goes south, you will not just lose your job”
Annete felt pure anxiety as she terminated the link to her superior operations executive. Several nations were already reporting in system to assist the company, and the companies own security forces were mobilising to assist. But this was the Synopticon, would she even have time? Taking a deep breath Annete took a moment to internalise her panic before she was interrupted by one of the Teddy Bears. It made sense, they were engineered to be extremely empathetic and sensitive to others needs.
“My lady, you ok?” It said carefully in its dopey non-threatening voice.
“No. A threat has infiltrated this paradise. Gather as many of you as you can and stop them. Code Delta 889” The alarms were starting to sound now in the facility. The thing seemed to look scared before its eyes glared over and it nodded, waddling off with purpose. At least they had engineered kill commands into them, they were derived from Brutes afterall.
--
As the various forces of those assisting entered the system the usual civilian traffic and more appeared on scopes, but no non Vosh Warships and nothing to indicate enemy attack. Yarom, the world in question was mostly tundra, its north and south poles little more than icey hellscapes, the perfect place to build a secluded contained fake paradise for a pet project. Thankfully intelligence reported that there was no anti orbital or anti air capability, for a combat drop this was going to be the nicest you could possibly get.
Co-ordinates were given to drop inside the atmospheric shield, in the strange gardens around the arcology. Wind howled and sheet snow and ice reduced visibility to less than a meter, forcing pilots to use their instruments as they came in low to drop forces off. No fire came to meet them allowing a rapid disembarkation and organisation. The facility was huge, slab sided and unadorned, with various service entry doors inside of many sizes.
The enemy had entered through the western most doorway into the facility, it would likely be the quickest way to get to them.
“Please keep all damage to an absolute minimum. Vosh assets are trying to slow down their progress, do not shoot the genetic constructs. Please hurry” the voice of Annete was sent over the communications to those currently landing.
The two Ghorran shuttles picked up the Coordinates as they overtook the three Dysonian shuttles in the formation. Due to the condition, The paratroopers would be forced to ditch their parachuting gear as they'd be forced to land and disembark when they get to the dropzone.
<<I read you ma'am. We're dropping in a soon as possible.>> Replied the paratrooper Captain over on the shuttle Taftak.
One shuttle would be heading into the Arcology and loaded off the HQ squad and two troopers, Being the Weapons squad and a Rifle squad. As well as three vehicles meant for Airdrop quickly mounted and driven on out. They were lightly armored and had HMGs on them for fire support. If anything, they were for just that and to also carry equipment.
This was likewise for the second shuttle, Which landed outside and disembarked two rifle squads and the Armor Hunters. The latter of which fill in for the Weapons squad.
The Arcology team as they're designated is to assist with interior defense alongside with the security assets, and help back up the Dysonians when they come in. The Outer Team as they're designated is multi-purpose. To scout the exterior and prevent any further potential break ins, as well as perhaps plug up the western doorway if possible.
----
"Pakaaaa-! It's cold!" Spoke a youthful Ghorran paratrooper, Manning the machinegun and scanning around. Trying to test out vision modes of his helmet goggles that would allow him to see as best as he could.
"Don't worry, Your exoskeletons heating will kick in in a bit. Should warm your torso at least." Replied another, who hooked his assault pack onto the side and got in.
"What we need to worry about is psychics."
"That's the thing though! We don't even know what they look like too!"
The squad sergeant spoke up as he loded up, "Quiet. We'll figure it out. Get this moving!"
The driver silently acknowledged and pressed down on the pedal. Now on the way followed by the others.
Surface of Yarom
The dominion's dropship landed down inside the designated landing zone of the arcology. The fusion drives of the craft were kicking up plumes of snow as it melted the tundral plains and ice beneath them, little puddles of dirty water forming. The transport's cloaking field shimmered away, large radiators unfolding and dumping heat into the surrounding cold air, doubling as a way to keep the ship from freezing up in the icy air. It's landing gear splashed down in the melted ice below them, and a door opened at the bottom, a ramp pushing into the wet ground.
Menthus stepped down briskly from the transport, slipping his helmet on as the cold crashed into his skin, prompting a shiver. He yelled out through the winds: "We'll go through the Western gateway here, keeping ourselves cautious and staying on the look for synopticon soldiers. Hopefully we can flank some of them, and take out important commanding officers."
"What happens if sum sinneh' bastards catch us, cap'n?" called out Larson in response, shuddering as the cold hit him. He cracked his knuckles and pulled out some spotting binoculars, getting an eye of the western doorway, then the Ghorrans landing nearby them. "Looks we got some allies in this mission with lots more soldiers than us, aye?"
"Then we make em regret bein' born!" responded the engineer. Lendy nodded her head with a smile no-one could see, and she peered towards the Ghorrans.
"Indeed, it will be good to have a larger force pressuring and distracting the Synopticon." replied Menthus, trying to ignore Lendy's enthusiasm as his squad fanned out around him, the lot of them preparing to move towards the Western gateway.
Orbit
[~100km above the surface]
The churn of the drives cut out, suddenly relieving the pressure that had been gradually building up on his upper body. The weightlessness of space instantaneously takes hold, pushing the captain of a Pascal Arlein infantry squad ever so slightly into the harnesses that hold him into the seat. He looks around the passenger bay, and locates his squadmates. They do the same. He looks around again - for the other squads of Pascal Arlein, as well as a sizable minority of sub-contractors. There’s a slight scorn on his face, but the subs don’t see it, and neither does the NRA Supervisor.
”We needed more manpower, especially since it was the Panopticon. I’m sorry, but that’s who you’re gonna have to work with.” That’s what the Supervisor said. That’s just who he was gonna have to work with.
Most contractors here and on Isaac Sigms were just like him - former Army or Navy personnel with extensive knowledge, either from the Supremacy Wars or from the Exile days. For the most part, they were here to beat back a savage foe, acting as an extension of the National Republican military.
The others were more ambiguous in their morality. Men and women with dark or unknown pasts, motivated by the pursuit of wealth and money. They would do anything to set themselves for life, and were little more than mercenaries, directed but not controlled by the Second Republic.
Before he can think too much more about it, the drives activate again, kicking him back. Orbit correction burn. They cut out before long. Then he undoes his harnesses and moves to the troopship.
—
Even through the snow and the thick clouds, everyone could see the descent of the Cascadian dropships. The bright orange plume of the chemical engines melted the snow and ground below it, before cutting out as the troopships smoothly landed. The troops dismounted first, followed by the light vehicles. As the area was secure, they quickly loaded up in the vehicles and headed for the Western gateway.
”Looks like we’re not the only ones here.” Having connected to the local communications grid, they informed Vosh about their imminent arrival.
Surface of Yarom, Vosh Arcology
A clean landing was a surprisingly generous opening to the mission, as the three transport shuttles landed in the Arcology, the trio of squads filing out quickly and organizing into their fireteams.
"Via..." Her voice scrambled by her helmet, one of the soldier shivered lightly as she got down on one knee, weapon raised and optics quickly scanning her surroundings. "This place already gives me the creeps. Reminds me of patrolling the Sprawl during the Revolution, just with... fewer Stomotopods."
Her input was ignored by her allies as the command fireteam of the platoon was speaking. "Alright, here's what we need. I need two squads to push to the west and intercept the hostiles breaking through in that direction. See if you can hit them on two sides and coordinate with friendly elements when you can. My squad will hold back and dig in to form a second line of defense with the nearby Ghorran squad and, again, with friendly elements present." He waited for a moment as the order was distributed between the Squads, before he swapped channels to communicate with their hosts.
"This is Commander Shial'shau of the DDF, to any friendly forces on this channel." He spoke, as two of the Dysonian squads began preparing to make their way westwards with weapons raised, soft crunching of snow from boots mixed with the more metallic stomping of the accompanying Predecessor Dysonians. "Our odds of survival here'll be much more optimistic if we coordinate and communicate with each other, so as a bit of a 'get to know you' activity, why don't we get a bit of a sound-off of who you all are and what we're bringing to the table?"
The soldier brushed off some show from his boot, and continued. "If you need me to start, well... you already know my name. But I'm bringing along three squads of three fireteams each, four soldiers per fireteam. My friend here, the Ghorrans, have brought their own platoon, half of which is keeping an eye on exterior of the Complex."
Shail'shau then listened for any reply.
'Evaluating situation on ground.
Multiple foreign signatures detected.
Engaging identity protection protocols...
Handing control to android frame...'
The ship AI which had been controlling the descent of the Network dropship went silent as Asdryn awoke, who was informed of the situation and his task in the same second.
The dropship dived into the atmoshpere like a needle, fast and near silent, a subtle warpfield preventing re-entry heat from the atmosphere and most of the navigational interference from the storm, though visual visibility was still near zero. Visual cloaks in form of holoprojectors activated, hiding the identity of the ship though not its presence.
Asdryn looked around in bleak and utilitarian grey room framed by metal walls and frowned, though unnecessary, ones bodily habits died hard, even if they were only imitations. He controlled the landing near the western entry whilst taking note of the transmission.
Before the ship landed or the people on the ground could even see it, a transmission came over the comms.
"Asdryn Severas, APS mercenary."
He pondered for a moment whether he should even disclose the number of frames they intended to deploy, though with the Synopticon already in the facility they already had a headstart anyways and it was not unlikely they knew they were coming.
"Nine fireteams, we can handle recon and coordination if necessary."
As the dropship was approaching the landing spot, equally as silent as it moved, Asdryn contacted the facility itself.
"This is APS contractor Asdryn Severas, we have heard your call, requesting floorplans and camerafeed of the facility, if you can provide such. We would advise to bring civilian staff to safety or evacuate them for the the duration of the incident."
The sleek and grey dropship, now visable for everyone appeared out of the snowstorm and landed. A ramp opened up and what looked like men in light powerarmour came down, each accompanied by two robots of similar style.
"Anything of note so far? Any questions?", Asdryn asked as he approached, skipping the formalities he deemed unnecessary in the situation.
Not long after the call, the Cascadian forces responded. A clear, commanding voice appeared on the radio and introduced himself as a certain Sergeant McNelly before listing off the Cascadian forces.
"We have 10 fireteams, divided into 4 squads in 1 light APC each. We also have urban assault and CQC drones with us, with orbital recon in place." Upon hearing Asdryn's question, he waited before responding again.
"Who's going to be leading this? The people on the inside?"
Kyalam System: Vosh Inc. Space
“We leave on the ground leadership to your discretion” Annete responded to the Cascadians and everyone else on the open net.
“I have a negative on camera feeds, civilian evacuations will be performed where necessary. Please understand this is a secure and highly confidential facility. Important company assets here dictate that I must abide by stringent policies, I can provide floorplans, but certain details will be removed. I hope you can understand”
The data sent across painted a somewhat disturbing picture that was only reinforced by the sights of the squads entering the facility. The place was laid out like a hospital, but with industrial elements included within and lots of redacted segments that led the imagination to wander. As elements entered through the same entry way as the enemy the first bodies became apparent. They were stocky, droopey and large, like huge fat children wearing fluffy clothes. It didn’t take a genius to work out they were clearly genetically engineered, they seemed to be the beings that Vosh told them not to kill. Still, their expressions showed contorted features in abject terror, their bodies riddled with bullet holes.
The area was a storage loading bay, with some civilian heavy haulers rigged up in tarpaulin. An inner door to the facility had been carved open, its edges still molten from breaching.
Beyond such was a reception esque area for cataloguing materials, but it felt even more like a hospital here. Surgical tiles and rubbery railings coated the walls and the floor itself was a rubbery texture that felt like somewhere conducting surgery. More bodies were found in the small office, three belonging to Vosh employees who had simply been sliced in half.
But at the end of the hallway stood a small child. They wore a surgical gown and stared at the forces as they entered, to check the bodies.
“Understood,” Menthus spoke over the open channel, in reference to Annete. “If you hear of any specific targets you need taken out, give us a call over communique channels.”
He cut the link and raised up his weapon alongside the Shadow Marines surrounding him. His throat tightened and he swallowed heavily, pulling the bolt on his rifle and checking the safety with his thumb.
“Jesus, lots of these things dead. Synnies really did a number on em’” one marine commented, tapping a body with their foot.
“Seems so, keep moving,” responded Menthus. He took a deep breath. Barely a few meters into the facility and already piles of bodies. Star knows what other hells they would find deeper in.
“Hey, guys, over here!” called one Marine- Private Drapine. He seemed to be walking towards something. The rest of them rounded the corner, metal boots tapping against the hospital-esque tiling as their guns raised.
They turned the corner just in time to see Drapine lowering his weapon, a child standing in front of him. He thumbed the safety, flipping it on so that the gun wouldnt fire, then let it hang from the sling. With one hand he began to reach out.
“Heya kid, you alright?” he said softly, the palm of his hand aiming upwards, as if offering for the child to take it.
“Drapine, somethin’ about this feels Wrong. Be careful,” spoke out Lendy, over the private comms channel the six marines all shared. She, like the rest of the marines, still had her gun out, not quite pointing at the child themself, but definitely in it’s general direction. Her voice carried a stress to it that was the telltale of goosebumps and a chill down her spine.
“Its just a kid,” he replied, “it cant hurt us,” flicking off his comm and lifting his helmet up, he offered a soft smile to the child. His eyes were an amber colour that nicely mixed with his tanned skin, soft jawline, and the dirty blond hair that peeked out from his helmet, through the hole where the now-lifted visor had been.
“Come on with us, and we can get’ya somewhere safe, alright?”
Approaching the child was his first mistake.
No words were spoken between the Dysonian soldiers as they pressed through the eerily silent halls, but when they saw the first of the twisted, sagging corpses, there was a thought shared among all of them, clear as day.
If they told anyone outside about this, in a matter of days they would be gone.
With that cheerful thought in mind, they began clearing into rooms to find any enemies, only to find more corpses... some of them sliced apart by some unknown enemy.
The facility had already been breached... and they may have very well underestimated the speed at which the Synopticon’s forces had advanced, adding another layer of paranoia to an already unstable stack of fears.
“Command should be handed off to someone who knows more about these guys than I do. As far as I’m concerned, we’re in uncharted territory here.” Rang the voice of Shial’shau once again. “However, if you want my input, we should have elements of our forces build up a line of defense around bottlenecks further back, in case-“ he stopped himself just in time from saying ‘the forward squads get taken out’, remembering they were listening in as well. “-In case Synopticon forces slip by our forward squads in force. Ambush points, barricades, if you’ve got a claymore or two, set those up in hidden spots, just make up a series of kill boxes. I don’t know how your respective nations function with their military but I’m confident that you know what I mean.”
“Sir, we’re getting reports of a couple bisected bodies. It’s... it’s a perfect cut too. Something very hot sliced right through these people.” The worried voice of a lieutenant pierced through comms.
“...Copy.”
Shial turned off his radio and took a few deep breaths, trying to settle his nerves, before he turned it on once again to speak on the channel the various factions were coordinating on. “I’m going to be blunt here... secrets are going to get people killed, so if any of you have intel that could be useful to all of us... I implore you to share. Im not asking for a full disclosure on your dirty laundry, but I’m not going to lose soldiers because of stingy bureaucrats, do I make myself clear?”
The Heavy Weapons squad and HQ team would stay behind and let the rifle squads scout out first. They too would prowl through the halls. The NCO of one of the fireteams would walk on over to one of the bodies to investigate. Seeing cauterized burns on the once living person.
It reminded him of the clash wars, though if only more of these post mortem wounds were.. messier. He shook his head and then rallied his squad to continue on to patrol and scout out the hallways and nearby rooms.
The second rifle squad would set up at a office block as they let the first squad ahead. Sort of a foothold that they can send bodies and wounded to the arcology for medevac and just a general staging point to send out reinforcements from and back for rest. Any corporate body inside would have been moved out and lined up for the corporations business to handle. The bloodstains though as remnant were rather ominous still to the rifleman
---
Meanwhile at HQ, a temporary post was made and the Captain would be over his radio, monitoring the helmet cameras of the various Paratroopers. Upon hearing Shial'shals voice, he spoke into the radio.
<<I believe they're quite aware, Shial, and be aware of where you place the directionals. The company is vehement about explosives near important assets, so be careful.>> He said, rather bluntly. Though not without weariness either.
<<.. I don't mean to be unprofessional, but are you afraid? Whether yes or no, Keep soldiering. I'll direct a squad in reserve to assist you if things go awry.>>
Having been delayed, the Cascadians were the last to enter through the Western doorway, leaving behind a single squad to guard their own vehicles and watch over the operational space outside the facility. Even though the others were sweeping into the building through the western gateway, like water being pumped into a stream, the Cascadians thought that they themselves should take lead, since they believed that their more "specialist" equipment would allow them to better clear the building and face any danger if needed. Nevertheless, their suggestions were not transmitted over to the frontal elements.
Their specialist equipment buzzed alongside them. These were divided into 2 main types of units: A tracked, terrestrial drone equipped with 2 recoilless rifles and a machine gun and quadcopters with either a single 12.7 machine gun, dual unguided rocket launchers, or both. Some units of this latter type sped forward, ahead of the Cascadians themselves, eventually linking up with the Dominion forces, who currently formed "spearhead" of this operation.
"Looks like these guys had a nasty case of Directed Energy syndrome." One contractor remarked as they passed by the bisected bodies.
"Yeah, but this doesn't look like lasers to me. Unless somehow they snuck a ship-grade graser-" Another contractor says, but his remark is cut off by reports about a possible survivor. A child.
"Do you think the graser missed a child?" The first man says again.
"I don't know. Let's get going."
A child? Something doesn't feel right. But what? It was just a child... Then he remembered.
637ASE — 36 Glasian Years Ago—47 Solar Years ago
Dawn breaks on the long-abandoned greenhouse, illuminating the pitiful remnants of what had once been the most efficient and durable of Glass’s genetically engineered crops. They had, for the most part, survived the artificially enhanced storms and lightning of the summers before, but luck could not deliver it from the cold, which seeped through the cracks and holes of the withering protective layers. By the time a lone militia squad took shelter in the ruins, most of the wheat, barley, rice and vegetables were dead, killed by the artificially induced frost.
There were six men and three women alongside the crops; former strangers bound by the promise that the least of them was greater than the sum of all of them. They rotated watches, waiting for a response, or just something, from the regional polity that they chose to believe was the successor to the First Republic. On some days and nights, there were bright stars in the sky—explosions that reminded them that the war was still present even if their immediate surroundings did not say so.
The advanced, mechanized world they lived their childhoods in had died. Heavenly weapons shifted the tectonic plates and caused tsunamis that rivaled skyscrapers, obliterating the coasts. Artificial plagues had consumed billions.
And the group wondered what would happen next.
Early one evening, the man on the watch saw the dead sea of plants parting and knew someone, or something, was coming. He called to the others who were sheltering in the admin-wing of the greenhouse, and a woman came out and stood with him. Together they watched the tall stalks parting further and further into their direction, while the others pressed their faces to windows and waited.
Eventually the curtain of crops parted, revealing a child. The man leveled his rifle at him, but the woman next to him rushed to shove the barrel away. He’s just a baby. Would you shoot a child? The man’s face was twisted with anger and confusion from his indecision, which forced him to rethink what had been happening since the Exile. Man turned on man, Cascadian pointed weapons at other Cascadians–something which was simply taken for granted to never occur again. The woman ran to the child, embracing him and pressing his face to her chest. The man with the gun stepped forward, but did not dare to speak.
He’s freezing. Get a blanket and some boiled water from the other unit. The man obliged, waiting a few minutes to see if anything else emerged from the stalks and exited through one of the many holes in the greenhouse. As he was returning from the other unit, he saw through the window the reactions of his comrades. They stared at the child but did not speak, dumbstruck by his appearance. How could this be? He thought that too.
“I have a big owie in my throat. It hurts.”
The man’s enhanced eyes saw the woman prodding the child to open his mouth. He saw her peer into his mouth cavity, but neither of them could see the micrometer-thin wire embedded near the opening of the threat. They couldn’t know, as the woman bent over to get a better look, that the device inside was calibrated to detect the slight increase in CO2, caused by their breathing.
The breath a trigger.
The child a weapon.
His expert reflexes caused him to dodge ever so slightly as the explosion vaporized the entire greenhouse. He was thrown back, beaten badly from the insane shockwave and thermal energy. Only a friendly unit passing by to investigate such an explosion saved him.
—----------
The Cascadian rushed forward, surging through ranks of both his countrymen and foreign strangers to reach Drapine. As he ran, he shouted at the top of his lungs:
”Get away from the child! Don’t touch him!”
But he could see that it was too late.
Asdryn watched the corpses in the entrance, they did indeed carry the signature of the Panopticon, Voshs engineered 'guards' seemed to have no significant resistance to offer to them, which meant they would have to move quick if they wanted to catch them.
The fact they would have no camera coverage was concerning, though the floorplans, as reduced as they may be, would at least help.
"Understood."
He studied the plans they had been provided with to see which was the most likely route the Panopticon intruders would take and if there were any shortcuts they themselves could take, it would be save to say, whatever they were looking for was likely at the centre of the facility or it's data servers.
The Network, or supposed 'APS', group began to fan out into three groups of three fireteams, each group pulling small devices from their belts which halted mid-air as they let go of them and then headed off into various directions to scout ahead of them.
"I find it unlikely they will return to the entrance, we have neither seen the craft they arrived with, if there was one and judging by what we know so far they tend to just disappear once they reached their goals. Remember, if they start leaving we have already failed our task anyways."
He paused for a moment as they entered the corridor seeing the child at the end, he knew something was off but shooting children, as suspicious as they may be, usually did not go well with the employers.
"Annete are there any children in this facility?"
He answered to the Dysonians in a routinely manner as he waited for an answer from Annete.
"What we will be facing here are genetically engineered soldiers, potentially psions, most of them do not feel any pain nor will they simply go down from most damage that would easily kill someone else so don't use your shots sparingly, focus on their leaders where possible."
Comms came to life as Drapine started approaching the child.
"Children? No... what do you mean, what children? Do you mean the Teddybears?"
Asdryn knew something had been off.
"GET AWAY FROM-!"
Was as far as he came over the group comms, the last thing they heard before the childs eyes suddenly widened and it's mouth gaped open unnaturally in a display of otherworldly horror...
Annete had only begun to explain that there were no children in the facility before the child had merely looked up at Drapine.
Its face had been one of pure soulless horror, like the child's entire existence had been drained out of it and a creature of pure dark malice put inside. As its face contorted its two hands grabbed Drapines as the screaming began.
The sound alone was enough to shatter the hospital tiling on the walls and the glass at the offices next to the entrance as the shockwaves of the sound careened down the hallway, but it was the psionic screaming in everyone's minds which evoked true horror. It was like a primal creature in so much pain and calling for help as it rung mentally, Drapine never stood a chance. His mandala was annihilated by the psionic force of the screaming even as his body ruptured and blood flowed from nearly every piece of his opened form. The rest were luckier, the proximity of the psionic screaming was not enough to kill, but it was enough to inflict psychological problems and terrify those that heard it.
As the noise finally died, the child's broken body was mangled on the floor next to Drapines, blood covering the whole section of the corridor and the T junction ahead. The lights had been destroyed, leaving the only illumination as a small golden string hovering above the child's corpse.
The child had been nothing more than a psionic landmine.
From the schematics the enemy had taken a left, climbing a series of stairs and onto the first of the surgical floors.
But given their first taste of what the enemy was capable of and willing to deploy, it had certainly been a wake up call.
--
The obsese creature which had once been a member of the Brotherhood of the Great State convulsed as it died, properly this time and not one of its artificial death cycles. Jonan had made sure to strip away the psychological manipulation that clouded the things mind, so that it knew that the BGS had never won. So that this previous man had known what truly transpired.
His scythe dripped in blood he held some of the low quality Solarite string in his hand, immolating it utterly. The sound of gunfire and screaming coming from further down the hall. The 'Teddy Bears' were proving annoying in their ability to take hits and keep coming. But it was the sudden psionic screaming which made Jonan tilt his head.
"Brothers, Sisters, we are no longer alone. Time to pick up the pace"
THE ARCOLOGY
There was an awkwardly long pause from Shial when he heard the Ghorran’s question, having been caught quite off-guard by it’s bluntness.
“I...”
Wait. He couldn’t answer that question, he wasn’t in the halls of the facility, hunting down whoever the Synopticon had brought in!
“What kind of question is that?!” He exclaimed, speaking mostly to himself, but still audible to the Ghorran. “Whether I’m scared or not is none of your business, if I’ve got feelings to unpack, I’ll do it after-“
The split second after that felt as if some cruel, superpowered god had placed his hands on Shial’s ears, and began to push against them, trying to burst his head open with the sheer pressure. Stumbling and falling against a vehicle, he let out a cry and held his hands up to his head, falling to the ground and curling up into a fetal position.
“H-help... HELP ME!”
Around him, other Dysonian personnel felt the Psionic scream similarly, save be for the few Predecessors, who’s only reaction was their optics flickering noticeably, before they got to work, trying to get the others to their feet, and figure out what the hell had just happened.
Shial’shau slowly sat up against the vehicle, reaching up and taking off his helmet. The interior optics were fogged up. Moisture formed at the edge of his eyes.
Were they truly ready for this?
FACILITY INTERIOR
“Is everyone up? Is everyone on their feet?!” The voice of a team leader called out, helping one of her riflemen to his feet.
“A-All accounted for.” The reply came from further down the hallway, where one Dysonian propped his stunned friend up against a box, checking if he was still conscious, and letting out a sigh of relief when his friend gave a thumbs up and a weak chuckle.
What the fuck happened there?? One moment you’re giving me an update, the next all I hear over Comms is everyone screaming! An angry voice pierced through the woman’s comms, causing her to flinch. The other squad had taken up an alternate route, and since they didn’t sound like they had been effected nearly as much, whatever had stuck them hadn’t effected the entire facility.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Shial! Are you there?”
“I-I’m here.” Came the meek reply. “We’re all fine up here, just... need a moment to recover...”
Oh. The voice of the other squad leader softened, clearly apologetic for resorting so quickly to shouting. Alright. While you guys get yourselves together, We’ll try to clear a way to meet and intercept Synopticon forces, and hold them off so you can get here and possibly get a flank in. If I can get a request to the Cascadian forces as well... You have drones, yeah? We’d love to get some recon from you so we don’t run into any more nasty surprises. Offer extends to all allies, as well.
THE ARCOLOGY
“They’re trying to slow our progress...” Shial muttered to himself, his thoughts now going a mile a minute as he tried to think over what had just occurred. This was a job more suited for something like the Sundowners, not for regular infantry! This kind of skulking through dark buildings, trying to fight some anomalous force...
He shook his head and placed his helmet back on. He had to focus.
“All friendly forces...” His voice broke. How humiliating. Shial cleared his throat and tried again. “Annete, I repeat myself now... secrets are going to get people killed, and you aren’t exempt from that. If we are to clear this facility swiftly, we need you to cooperate with us. Can you at the very least give us an idea on where Synopticon forces may be heading, their last known location, anything?”
HQ Team, Captain
The Captain would listen to the young mans muttering over radio, before speaking up.
Before he was going to make a quick remark and move on, He heard a sharp noise in his headset and he'd flinch, taking off his helmet and rubbing it.
"Via-" He swore, Before looking back over the mini-terminal.
<<Lieutenant Shial, Status?>>
Nothing, A few cameras from his first rifle squad on patrol started to flicker, some froze. He tried getting on the communications and began alerting the other squads.
Something wasn't right, and it sent a chill crawling up his spine. Still, he kept trying to see if he could get in contact..
First Squad, First Fireteam
The First Squad had been relatively near wherever most of the Allies are at and were afflicted by the piercing influence of whatever sheer psionic power was in play. The NCO was sent crumpling into a wall, having tried to catch his fall before being in shock. Felt like he was being in a overpressure blast, except if there wasn't an explosion. He whimpered in pain before he opened his eyes and slowly got up, Shaking his head and looking to the rest of his fireteam.
"Team, check in! Whose down and out?" He rang out.
A rifleman huffed and looked up, lifting up his goggles and rubbing his eyes as he leaned against the wall for a breather.
"I'm alright, What was that?" He said with subtle exhasperation.
"Beyond me Private," Replied the NCO who then looked at the others who rang out that they were alright.
His radio began kicking in, The voice of the captain speaking up,
<<I lost contact with your squad for a moment. Status?>>
The NCO reached up to press a button as he watched the doorway, Rifle up.
<<No casualties. We apparently have been hit with some sort of.. Not even explosive, psychic? Force. Anything happened to 2nd team?>>
<<Noted, Sargeant. 2nd team is in the green. Link up with fireteam 2 and move in to check in with allies.>>
<<Wilco..>>
HQ Team, Captain
The Captain sighed in relief that the men under his command haven't horribly died all at once. However, This started to give him a hunch that either the enemy had long left the facility and were just leaving behind something to slow them down, or most likely, they're still around and were indeed trying to slow them down. Going with the latter, He began to give out rapid fire orders to all squads to stay alert and keep an eye out for traps.
He then spoke up once again to allied communications.
<<Allied forces, Status?>>
Exterior Section
The Exterior Section drove around the outskirts of the building before finally coming upon the western entrance, Infantry dismounting their vehicles roughly 1000 meters away with the Armor Hunters setting up somewhere where they can observe the doorway. The AH Team half expecting there to be a dropship or something formidable standing at the doors...
"What the Fu-"
Drapine's last words were brief as his soft expression changed to fear, and then to agony. Barely seconds after the screaming began, his blood vessels ruptured, lungs collapsed, and his mind shattered into a million-trillion pieces. Blood seeped out of his ears and eyes and nose and mouth before he crumpled and collapsed onto the ground, his hand only held up until the child too collapsed, left bleeding.
The rest of the marines- especially the already psionically latent Menthus- were hit agonizingly hard, being close to where Drapine lay dead, but none of them seemed to have died. Beneath their helmets, one marine's ears were bleeding; Lendy had doubled over after lifting her visor, and vomited onto the floor, her eyes bloodshot; and Menthus groaned in pain, wiping water from his eyes.
Larson shook his head, and spoke first.
"Goddamnit, 'et fucken killed Drapine," he said, clearly angry but still in pain.
"We must keep moving, the cold will keep his body preserved until we can come back for him," said Menthus, with a necessary coldness. After that, the Dominion soldiers collected themselves, a somberness among them as they shared silent conversation over comms systems, and felt a heavy pain in their hearts. Despite this, they collected Drapine's dogtags, and kept moving.
Not again! The infantryman screams out, but his voice is drowned out by the overwhelming pressure of an explosion, or at least what he thinks is an explosion, that sends him flying across the hallway and into a wall with a noticeable thud. He is knocked out immediately, and in the process, saved from the demonic mind-torture everyone else experiences.
Cascadians possess natural blank barriers, making them disconnected from most things psionic, though the amount of this disconnect varies from person to person. The blank-state allows them to endure psionic attacks, but they were no match for this kind of concentrated, localized assault.
A few steel on. Another few drop to the ground. Most are silent—reeling from the horrifying psychological effects, but carrying on after an agonizing moment.
”We got a man down.” One of them shouted, motioning over to the motionless corpse of the man that tried so hard. A field medic checked his vitals; he was alive, but heavily injured from the shock and sudden impact on the wall.
”Take him back to the vehicles. They know what to do.” Three members of his squad nodded, carrying him to the western gateway which they entered through. The others, having recovered to the best of their abilities, responded to a request by their Allies.
”Ahem. Yes. We do have drones. They can scout ahead and engage the enemy first.” It took a few seconds for the drones to switch to the right mode. Upon doing so, the buzzing quadcopters sped forward, followed by the tracked ones. The former were much faster than any infantryman, so they should hopefully clear out the hallways faster…
Asdryn could feel parts of his suit interlock to absorb the impact though the surge of power that had come with it even he had not been prepared for. There was a thin smoldering from his feet paired with the stinging smell of molten rubber.
He had been lucky they kept their distance, he wasn't sure if his systems would've survived the blast. He would put emphasis on the children in his report, given that it was the first time they encountered them.
"There are no children in this facility according to Annete, this supposed 'child' was a psionic mine.", he noted, mostly to everyone who hadn't been there or hadn't caught on to what happened.
He looked at the Dominion soldier and the Cascadian who had been thrown back against the wall, two casualties and they haven't gotten significantly closer to the target yet.
"Hover drones should be on their way to scout the corridors we can provide you with info if you want to better direct your own.", he answered to the Cascadians. "We should keep moving, our enemy is most likely headed to the centre of the facility, avoid the children or shoot them on the spot, but keep your distance from anything that doesn't look right."
There was no use in standing here and idling around, his own 'troops' already knew all that had transpired in detail, given the ongoing datalink, so he didn't have to inform them and the Synopticon certainly wouldn't wait for them. He moved past Drapines corpse and entered the next room with caution.
“Their heading for the top layers of the arcology where certain members important to the company are… working. They intend to assassinate them, and likely target the main server core to destroy its data banks. Given the combat reports they are around 45 minutes from getting to my level, they are moving incredibly swiftly despite the current defence. They are taking out cameras, heat sensors and other monitoring devices everywhere they go so I can’t give you exact coverage, they may be sweeping the lower floors too watch out” Annetes voice was clear but despite the business-like professionalism she was obviously terrified and that seeped into her tone.
As the forces collected themselves after this sudden wake up call, they began to move on, drones fanning out as they moved up the staircase and into the couple of floors above. Most was empty as the squads kept moving, scanning environments and checking the rooms, all of which appeared to be large storage warehouse areas where cryogenically cooled assets were kept. Mostly drugs, surgical equipment and sample racks. But here and there were super cooled crates reinforced and containing large hazards for biological matter.
It wasn’t until they continued through the eerily clean stairway up again that they saw the first of the surgical chambers.
They were huge, with specialist gurneys, roof cranes and beds which were gigantic. Whatever was being operated on or cared for here must be monstrously large, whole hosts of cables and drug dispensers covered the walls. These lower operation rooms hadn’t been used in a long time, they were undisturbed despite being clean, and the low temperature here helped keep them that way.
Still several bodies ahead near the stairs indicated the enemy had been here, the half-frozen remains of three Teddy Bears lay. They too were huge, like hunched back and distorted children that bore some resemblance to the Capitol Brute strain.
A moment later the drone going up the stairs went dark, and a grenade was tossed down the stairwell a moment later.
Facility Interior
"Can't say I didn't know what to expect." One of the riflemen spoke up, grimacing downwards at one the Teddy Bear corpses. "It feels like every corp messing with genetics can't help but have one or two secret facilities where they perform their... mad science." She shuddered. "And we haven't even seen whatever it is they have in those blacked-out areas they mentioned..." The squad mostly unaffected by the psionic explosion on the other side of the facility crawled through the hallways, thought their pace had picked up in the meantime, weapons raised and keeping an eye out for any sign of movement, kept company by the sound of boots on the floor and the rougher sounds of the Predecessors marching alongside them.
Four of the riflemen, three typical Dysonians including, the one complaining about the corporation, and one Predecessor hefting a large machine gun, approached the stairs and began advancing upwards cautiously. No more words were spoken, as their attention was pretty much directed upwards, weapons raised and pointed towards whatever blindspot came up next, but so far...
Nothing.
The nothing was starting to become a bit nervewracking. They had figured at the very least they would have heard gunfire from the upper levels, but the silence was more oppressive than anything else.
Unfortunately, the monotony was broken.
By something round bouncing down the stairs.
"GRENADE!" One of the dysonians spoke up, his voice breaking as they processed for a split second what was going on, and dove behind the corpse of one of
the Teddy Bears, the... thing's surprisingly large body serving as makeshift cover. A second one dove on top of the first, covering her fellow squadmate's body with hers, with room barely enough for the two of them behind the corpse. The third dove away and bounced off a few stairs with a grunt and a yelp of pain, landing in the corner and huddling up, covering her head in her arms.
The Predecessor, however, acted quicker than the others, extending a hand and grasping the grenade as it bounced by it, but before it could toss the explosive back up the stairs, it detonated right in it's hand.
Heavily armored as it was, the Predecessor had shrapnel tear through it's hand and arm, ripping it's forearm to shreds as wire and metal was torn through. It's torso wasn't unscathed either, with more shrapnel from the fragmentation slamming into it's torso, lodging deep within the predecessor's torso, but whether intentional or not, it managed to take on the majority of the shrapnel.
The Predecessor tipped over at that point, tumbling down the stairs, and the dysonian huddled in the corner yelped as she saw the machine falling down, crawling out of the way, just avoiding being crushed or pinned when it finally came to rest, optic lights flickering weakly.
"Get up, up, you two!" The second rifleman said, getting to her feet and aiming back up the stairs, and the sound of a second fireteam running up could be heard, to pull the crippled machine out. "We can't let them pin us down, get to your feet and push!"
The trio remaining in the first fireteam scrambled to their feet and hurried up the stairs once more, weapons raised to blind spots once again, to try to take out whoever had thrown the grenade, and keep the Synopticon from pinning the squad down in the stairwell.
<<Copy that. My men will move with haste but they are leaving behind traps to slow us down. We'll do what we can..>> The captain replied to Anette, then putting his helmet back on and speaking to the first squad,
<<Squad One, Double time to the upper layers! Enemy forces are moving with speed to target their HVTs and destroy the main server. Whatever the panopticon is doing here, It's up to us and our allies to stop them!>>
First Squad
<<Wilco. Squad, Haul ass! Lightning sweep for any blindspots and call out traps as we get to higher levels!>>
The Ghorran first squad would have met up with eachother and began sweeping in tow of the Dysonians. Following them loosely behind and checking for any blindspots that they might've missed. They would've also reported quickly of corporate equipment and materials that are undamaged.
The NCO would have been with two of his fellow riflemen of his squad at the end of the hallway leading to the staircase. Watching the Dysonians walk on up stairs to clear it. As soon as they heard the clatter of the grenade hitting the floor and one of the Dysonians call out the grenade, They would immediately stepped behind the wall, with the latter most soldier frantically diving behind it and being dragged in more by his fellow Rifleman.
<<Paka..!>> shouted the diving rifleman.
Hearing the loud CRUNCH and CRACK of the explosion, The NCO and a Rifleman would quickly lean out with their guns up to see if anything was coming down, and to also check casualties. Of which was the Predecessor which fell down.
<<Dysonians have one Casualty, Automatic Rifleman. Predecessor.>> The NCO replied as two other members of his fireteam came up.
<<Copy that. Take your fireteam and support the squad immediately. The other fireteam will hold the hallway and stairs and follow through when necessary.>>
<<Copy! Out.>>
The first Fireteam began moving out immediately, With a Autorifleman and the Assistant Rifleman coming up the Stairwells with the Dysonians, The assistant looking upwards behind him quickly as he stepped onto the stairs to see if anyone had been sitting up there to try and ambush one of the Dysonians. The Auto Rifleman came up the stairs after the assistant to set up the LMG and began scanning for target. Firing away for suppression at the first enemy or two he saw.
HQ
The Captain would speak up to the allies,
<<The Dysonian and my Squad have likely met enemy contact. One casualty sustained by a grenade thrown down the stairwell at (area name here). If I have to guess, They're likely keeping multiple units behind to stall us.>>
Asdryn would've been next up the stairs as the drone went silent, but the Dysonians seemed to be intent on going first. He was going to cry out 'grenade' as it's clicking came downstairs but the Dysonions were standing, quite literally in his view.
The mercenary drew what looked like a sidearm from his belt but the Dysonians stood already too close.
He had, of course, jumped into cover, but with the Dysonian machine taking most of the impact, what little remained of the shrapnel plinked of his own mechanical assistants. Now he stood of the corpse, or wreckage he wasn't sure, of the dead Quosx companion and pondered on the chain of events for a moment, something which likely took a second at most for the onlookers, though stretched like minutes in his artificial mind. He would've advised them to be more careful but now was not the time, in the end it was perhaps better this way, one casualty instead of many, perhaps it was intentional.
He holstered his side arm and instead picked another of the little drones from his belt which promptly floated towards their target location stopping shortly before and landing on the floor.
Asdryn looked into his HUD as the drone tried to find the enemies position via echolocation as another member of his group tried to find whether there were any other paths leading up there so they could perhaps flank them, within a reasonable amount of time.
Preparations made the APS group followed suit and ascended the stairs although keeping their distance from the front row, weapons at ready.
"So many stiffs just, layin' around," mused Larson quietly. The Dominion troopers had chosen to back behind that of the Dysonians, walking through the facility interior with a somber alertness, guns raised constantly.
"The synopticon isn't any old joke, Lars. Buncha smart maniacs with guns and psionics, and youve got a real problem on your hands."
"Enough chatter," spoke up the Dreft. "Keep quiet and focu-"
He was cut off by panicked yelling, and the remaining Shadow-Marines peered towards the commotion.
"Shit, Grenade!" called out one of the Marines, as they all dived down behind bodies or backwards towards other cover. They all hit the ground- Larson last- as the blast went off, shrapnel pinging around, but none of it piercing their armour or the cover they had dropped behind. They collected once more, and began to ready themselves to push up after the Dysonians.
"Ah, bollocks.." spoke out Larson, lifting up his helmet.
"Everything alright?"
"Nothing too bad, just," he put his gloved hand up to his left ear then pulled it back. Red stained the tips of his glove, and his helm closed once more. "Ruptured me eardrum."
"You'll be fine."
Menthus clicked down on his comms, speaking to Annette.
"Are there any side passageways we can use to move parallel to the other forces? If we can get around the right way, we'll get a drop on Synopticon forces, and get them caught between two fronts."
If all went well, he'd ask Asdryn's forces hanging at the back to tag with him in their flanking manouver. For now, though, his soldiers pushed up the stairs, hanging towards the rear of the formation alongside Asdryn's mercenaries.
"U2 is not responding. Looks like it went down." Their data-linked heads-up display showed the Cascadians that a drone that went up the stairs only moments ago had been downed. Apparently, judging from the total lack of return fire , which they knew very well would happen regardless of the durability of the drone, suggested that the next "trap", or line of defenders, were far-more capable than initially thought.
The Cascadians were too far away to feel the effects of the grenade, but they didn't know if it was fragmentation, smoke, electrostatic, or any other esoteric warhead. Luckily, it turned out to be HEF, so they and the rest of the mercenaries could recover and advance relatively quickly. A few of the squads stuck with the Dysonians and APS, readying their CQC weapons. A communique went through to Annete, asking for authorization:
"Permission to use high-explosive and electrostatic grenades!" The tension in the man's voice made it seem more like a order rather than a question.
The other squads were more comfortable flanking or otherwise outmaneuvering the enemy. A deep voice came onto the radio with Annete.
"Are there any alternative pathways? Don't want to be squished into a chokepoint."
“If I redirect you around the travel time to where the Synopticon main force is could take you hours, this is a big facility and time is of the essence. There are no other alternate routes within 15 minutes of your location. I know they are likely trying to slow you down, but the most direct route is the most effective I’m sorry, we can’t afford any setbacks” More terror laced the voice of Annete in response to Menthus and the Cascadians. Forward it was.
Gunfire immediately flared out after she cut the link, as the Dysonians & Ghorrans rushed the stairs and moved upwards to cover the blind spots a hail of automatic fire came straight towards them. A large open lobby of some kind, complete with waiting room chairs which were horrendously large and clearly not for regular people. Again, cranes crossed the ceiling, and it went up several stories at the very least with the upper floors able to look down onto their position.
At the far end were two other elevators which both flanked a reception booth. Surrounded by iron bars like a prison the autofire came from behind its desks. Initially perhaps a heavy machine gunner it quickly became clear that it was some kind of emplaced remote controlled gun turret, an old Capitol pattern deployable sentry gun which had been manufactured and used during 2AW and subsequently sold galaxy wide. It raked the stairs with high calibre rounds but it wasn’t the only target.
Two soldiers were taking cover behind the huge chairs, one of which combat rolled behind cover, the one who had thrown the grenade.
The other popped up to add more suppressing fire to the stairs, they wore olive drab camo, hoods and their eyes seemed to glow a sickening gold, small strings coming from each as they engaged.
The Automatic rifleman would swear and slid himself down while prone, Though his assistant wasn't so lucky when he turned around, Getting struck by two large caliber round which instantly knocked him downwards the stairwell and left him writhing. One round struck his arm, cracking his bone and forcing the Exoskeleton to tourniquet. The other left a large wound through his right lung, which instantly collapsed.
One of the latter Ghorrans would drag the man and began to check him as the others grimaced. Might as well follow.
<<First fireteam, One man down. Rifleman is checking on him. My Automatic Rifleman and allied forces are pinned up the stairwell.>>
The Captain paused for a split second.
<<Copy. Do what you can, I suggest bypassing the stairwell, out.>>
The NCO rallied his second man and stopped for a report from the rifleman.. The Assistant is dead.
The NCO felt a venomous pang in his chest, but, he can't stop here. He acknowledged and motioned him as well before attempting to look for a flank around..
"Understood Annete."
Asdryn cursed internally as he heard the automatic fire and saw one of the Quosx soldiers fly back down the stairs right past him. The others ran ahead again without waiting for his groups intel, though it was more of a tired protest than an actual complaint, in the end it was none of his business if they intended to get themselves shot and his own group could function just fine from the back line. More concerning but less surprising than that was the fact there were no alternate routes, this laboratory was built like a fortress, not unheard of, considering the state of the galaxy, though ironic that it now became their own trap. It also meant Vosh Inc. had likely been aware something like this could happen, raising more questions than answers but explained why they were so intent on saving whatever they may have stored here.
As they themselves reached the horizon of the staircase and were greeted with suppression fire, he ducked before coming into sight, but took note of the turret in the room. With a mental order one of his two assisting frames pulled a dart looking object from their belt, attaching it to the bottom of their weapon, then firing it with a precision shot at the turret, taking a hit to the head in turn sending shrapnell against the ceiling of the staircase, strangely enough to the outsiders, the damage didn't seem to impair the machine at all.
"Stand back for a moment."
Asdryn tested if the dart had hit home and tried to hack the sentry gun to change it's friend/foe acquisition so it would target their enemies instead. He was well aware that if they started trading shots their 'biological assets would suffer and if they used explosives it would be the facility, so if his trick wouldn't work, they would have to force their way through.
Two Dysonians had made it up to the top of the stairs before the turret opened fire alongside of the two Synopticon soldiers, putting a sizable hole through the chest of the Ghorran running alongside them and tearing his arm off with a second shot.
"Fuck!" The first one cried out as he hit the ground, large caliber bullets flying overhead, putting him in a blindspot from the turret and one of the soldiers behind a massive couch, while the second one, the woman who had rallied the squad after the grenade had been thrown, hit the ground as well with a grunt, rolling behind a chair as well.
The rest of the squad wasn't in a position to push up the stairs, but one of the riflemen threw up a cylindrical grenade over the top stair after Asdryn fired a dart towards the turret. The grenade tapped along the ground a couple times, before it let out a spark and began spewing a grey smoke, covering the entrance of the stairwell for the rest of the squad.
"Whatever you've got planned, hurry the hell up!" The soldier who threw the grenade said to Asdryn, her voice clearly strained from the sudden escalation of violence. Two Alliance casualties at least from this end and most of them haven't even seen the goddamn enemy!
The first Dysonian who made it out of the stairwell was still in the firing line of one of the Synopticon soldiers, so he quickly fired a burst in it's direction, trying to scramble out of the way further into cover. His fire was inaccurate, due to already being under some serious stress and having no time to take proper aim, but hopefully it would leave the enemy suppressed enough for him to find better cover in the meantime...
That is, he assumed the enemy soldiers would care about suppression.
”Understood.” Said the captain, whose tone indicated a hint of anger and frustration. An assault through a choke point was to be avoided, but in this case, they couldn’t.
He had an idea. Actually, he had two ideas. He patched himself back through to Annete.
”Permission to use EMP weapons?” That was his first one; the second one would be used in case he was denied permission, and in case the other attempts by his ‘allies’ failed. Then he quickly informed the rest of his squad and the rest of the Cascadian units involved in the stairway assault about his ideas.
”You got the ‘32 on?” The captain asked a fellow squadmate.
”I do, sir.” He said, motioning to the long weapon on his back.
”Good, be ready to use it. I don’t know how or what the others are gonna do.”
"...Understood." replied Menthus, unenthusiastically. He silently frowned, and ushered his soldiers forwards, not too long after the gunfire began. Full frontal combat, eh? He resigned himself to the idea that more of his soldiers may die to day, maybe even himself. The thought nagged at him, but it was something he'd just have to live with. He and the other shadow marines ducked down as they crested the stairs, exoskeletons whirring silently. The first to ever so slightly peek up was Larson, who held his rifle slightly up above him, using the link between scope and visor to get a good look at the synopticon soldiers shooting them. When he had a good shot- or so he thought, he peeked up and fully grabbed the rifle, pulling the trigger as a beam of plasma shot towards the synopticon position for a split seconds. Following suit, the other Marines continued to peek up and prod at the Synopticon soldiers with rifles and submachine guns.
Automatic fire ripped up the top step of the stairs as the gun and two soldiers tried to keep the forces pinned, a couple going down to the overwatch.
It was a well defended position indeed and to Asdyrn his assumption that it was built like a fortress indeed seemed to be the case. Everything was too perfect when it came to choke points, sight lines down onto where they were moving into and general resilience of the building. Whatever was here, Vosh didn't want anyone getting in. Shame that included the rescue relief teams.
The spike impacted the guns automated unit, breaking into its systems and pausing its fire just long enough to allow the smoke grenades to be thrown up to the top of the stairs. It obscured the area as the Synopticon troopers tried to blind fire into the smoke, seemingly uncaring of the inaccurate bursts fired to suppress them by the now moving up Dysonian troopers.
But one of them went down, a plasma beam punching through the upper chest as the Shadow marines used their gear to crest and engage. The soldier fell to the floor limp like a puppet whos strings had been cut but the other returned fire with a quick burst.
The automated gun, now detecting that it was being hacked, bricked itself as automated protocols engaged, wiping its system and jamming its firing chamber to ensure that it could not be used by the enemy. At least it was non operable.
After firing a return burst the line trooper now withdrew towards the other stairwell but clanging on metal grates echoed down from above. Just as the open area allowed those sitting in the waiting room to look up several floors above, those above had a perfect view of below. Four more Synopticon soldiers appeared three floors above, firing down through metal grated flooring onto the forces below, one once again setting up an automated gun turret to fire down onto the group. Three of the soldiers carried the same large calibre rifles but one man carried what appeared to be a pulsing tumour which emanated a slight glow, tossing it over the railings the lump of flesh impacted the floor with a rather unceremonious and uneventful splatter, sending bits of meat and blood all over the floor.
But the air where it had been thrown seemed to shimmer and glow. And whispers could be heard, voices which called to all of those nearby.
The Ghorrans were unable to find any place around to bypass the stairs.
The NCO was quite pissed at this point with the predicament he's in and turned to his fellow men.
"Nothing, We're going to try and push out-"
The Auto-rifleman would silently gasp seeing some bullets hit the floor infront and shimmied himself more down, screaming "FOUR CONTACTS! UPPER FLOORS!" He said, Returning fire from his gun with long bursts of fire. Sweeping it back and forth to try and keep them busy. However, He saw the silhouette of something drop and then a wet sound, then whispers.
He was very much in fight mode right now to bother with it. Infact, He found the whispers more annoying more than he did being scared of it. Which made him start yelling over his guns in a foreign language. If anyone can guess, It was probably a really passionately angry rant.
"... Nevermind. Get up there and support the gunner with suppression to let the others push-" He said, Being cut off by the whispers. With a shake of his head, he'd shake a Riflemans shoulders who got lost in thought of the whisper.
"On me Paratrooper! I'm sick of stupid fuck-fuck games and we're finishing this fight right now!"
The trio would brush past the Dysonians, the NCO in particular telling the Dysonian squad to push out when they have the opening to so they can fan out and control the room to take angles. The other two would quickly join up with the Automatic rifleman and began firing at the attackers, staying by the wall for some cover. Well, In abstract atleast.
"Sooner we get out of this, the better because otherwise they'll start throwing grenades at us again." The NCO finished before joining his men. (edited)
The other half of the squad finally arrived, the Combat Life-saver quickly running on up to take the Ghorran corpse and tag him before going up to the Predecessor to see if it was still kicking or not. They too were exposed to the whispers and took a moment to collect themselves before the NCO pushed them on. In queue to move up once the others have went into the room. Might as well be security in the meantime.
Asdryn half turned his head towards the turret as he noticed the machine locked up and then effectively self-destructed as he attempted to hack it. He hadn't quite expected they had countermeasures in place in cases like these, though he probably should have, the mortals sure were pesky but also crafty, he made a mental note that he would have to keep that in mind.
"Turret is down, room is almost clear." He noted as one of the soldiers and turret were taken out, only to be proven wrong seconds later as additional fire support came down from the upper levels.
"Curses.", he grumbled.
He shook his head at the Ghorran cursing whilst trying to supress the upper floor as the strange blob of meat came down from the upper floors, presumably it was some sort of psionic weapon, or a remnant of it, he couldn't quite tell, though it made him wish they'd brought a plasma thrower. He turned to the other half of the Quosx, the Dysonians.
"It is none of my business how your unit operates here but I would advise calming that man down before he draws more attention than he needs to."
He looked into the room, which was still somewhat smoky from the grenade earlier, maybe they could utilise that. He hated to admit it but his auto-frames were more expendable than most of the other squads at the current time.
This time he addressed everyone.
"I'm uncertain if supressing panopticon puppets will be effective so we will be drawing fire to the other side of the room and then try to go around the lefthand side, considering probably nobody brought any sufficient cover for aerial fire. I would advise you to move quickly and silently but you hopefully know that without me telling you."
With that he turned around, with a quick a order a group of three autoframes, including the one who took the shoot earlier, separated from their androids and marched into the right side of the room, somewhat spread out to provide not too easy of a target and started firing their pulse laser rifles at the upper floors to make themselves known simultaneously assisting the ghorrans in providing suppression fire, whilst trying to remain in cover against the trooper still on the same floor. In the meanwhile, the remaining auto frames and Androids moved around the other side as silently as possible with the intent of shooting the last soldier on the bottom floor as soon as they reached the point where they were in cover from the upper floors.
"Puppets?" The nearby dysonian said as he pressed his back up against one of the couches, trying to avoid the fire coming down from above. Given the nature of the adversaries they face, there was a hunch among quite a few of the soldiers that the enemy infantry they were fighting through weren't exactly the average soldier, but the confirmation of such a suspicion was regardless an unsettling revelation.
Splat
Whatever had hit the ground didn't create a dramatic explosion, no flash of light, just a rather pathetic impact of meat and blood, but the whispers that surrounded the nearby soldiers clearly signaled that this was anything but. However, the Dysonians might have been able to prove themselves resilient to this kind of thing, many of them familiar with anomalies across their home planet, voices from beyond...
Then again, this may have been something entirely else in particular.
It was maybe best to allow their allies to handle this strange thing in their stead.
"Alright, keep your heads down and keep to the edges, our allies here will try to keep those hostiles above us off our ass, but you're gonna need to move quick regardless, we need to get out of this killbox as soon as we can." The other Dysonian to have gotten into the room said, and one of the Dysonian fireteams got up over the stairway, and began making their way to the other side of the lobby, to the stairs leading up, keeping close to the wall and trying to take a route with the least amount of incoming fire. The two dysonians already up on the ground took positions behind the couches, firing up at the Synopticon soldiers, forgoing suppression at this point and trying to inflict accurate fire against their attackers.
Continuing the pressure, the shadow marines pushed forwards more.
"Contacts, Contacts! Friendlies are reading four contacts and a turret, high floors!" called out Larson, sending out data the allied forces had gathered through to his fellow marines, as his visor highlighted the synopticon soldiers red in their presumed position.
"Shit- I'll toss a 'nade!"
One marine nodded, pulling a fusion grenade from his belt and locking it onto a magnetic propulsion device on his wrist. He logged the general location of the synopticon soldiers, and the arc of fire on his smart visor, and got ready to jump out, grenade armed and aimed.
"Be fucking careful, Harrison!"
The marine- Harrison- Hopped out from their cover, and lifted up his arm. "Tossing!-" he squeezed his hand shut, sending the circular grenade up in an arc up towards the synopticon soldiers, closer to where the turret was. Before he could retreat, though, the whispers began.
That distraction was all it took. He faltered, and there was a distinct crashing noise as a bullet swung itself through his skull, and down his spine. He dropped to the floor in an instant, not even being given time to scream as his body crumpled in on itself, blood pooling out and mixing with the meat and gore of the flesh that the synopticon soldiers had dropped down from below.
"Star fucking damnit- Harrison is KIA!" Menthus said over the comms, then repeated "One soldier confirmed dead, im backing my squad up!" over the general allied comms network. He motioned back with his hand as he and the remaining 3 shadow marines pulled back to the stairwell, regrouping and reloading.
”We’ve got some cover! Move it!” The captain ordered as he and the rest of his squad filed up through the staircase and into the area where the smoke grenades had been laid down before. As bullets descended from above and hit the ground before them, though, they were forced to halt in their steps and retreat again to the staircase for cover.
”Get me some fuckin’ covering fire!” He yelled over to the other squads as they tried yet again to cross the area and get to cover. While they managed to tread the distance to do so, an unusual occurrence withdrew their attention once again.
It appeared in the form of a lifeless blob of meat, emanating a miasma of voices and whispers. What the hell were these people? More importantly, what were their weapons? As the air of whispers spread, the Cascadians found it hard to resist its pull.
”Hey! You got the ‘32 on?!” That seemed to snap one rifleman out of his trance. Successive shouts and questions followed, in which, one-by-one, the Cascadians were pulled out by their leader. Only one seemed unresponsive – he had to be shoved to the ground in order to avoid being splattered by incoming gunfire.
”Fire the fuckin’ thing at them!” He ordered again, and the rifleman obliged. After moving to a bit of cover, he aimed the long weapon and pulled its trigger. An invisible, coherent beam of ultraviolet radiation shot up instantly to the position of the Synopticon troopers above, inducing instant ablation and melting. The rest of the squad linked up with the Asdryn’s auto-frames and began advancing on the left side of the room.
The Synopticon soldier who had attempted to withdraw up the stairs was vapourised by the Shadow marine fusion grenade, his fire abruptly ceasing as the Dysonians stormed the same stairs he was attempting to climb. While the four attackers were two floors above they did not have much in the way of cover.
As the network frames and other soldiers gave covering fire and tried to suppress the soldiers they split, two going to the left two to the right. One was caught by the sheer volume of fire, taking a hit from the Cascadians to the left arm, spinning him around before Dysonian rounds put two into his torso. The remaining soldier on the left followed in a moment, the Cascadian UV laser slicing through the gangway they were standing on and causing it to collapse, sliced at the left most abutment. The two soldiers on the right side were clear by the time this occurred, although one had taken a Ghorran round to the leg and was staggering. Still the metal walkway gave way, the Synopticon soldier on it losing his footing before falling three stories downwards and impacting the floor.
The two remaining soldiers didn’t return fire and moved out of line of sight.
But the whispers were getting louder, a faint glow emanated from the air just above the steaming biological remains of the tumour.
The whispers then sounded like… children playing? Giggling and laughing…
A split moment later several Golden strings emerged from the disturbance in the air, snaking as though locking onto soldiers nearby.
They didn’t kill, but those touched were catapulted into their memories, taken to their most beautiful and touching moment of their life. It felt utterly real, utterly fulfilling. Whispers promised only one thing.
Join us, feel the fulfilment
As the Synopticon troopers tried to get away into cover, Asdryn was actually surprised, this was not the usual death-defying behaviour he would've expected, it did mean they would not suffer more losses, at least at this very moment. It seems even they had some sort of sense of self-preservation... if only to ensure the completion of their mission, which made them eerily similar to the Network drones.
He shook his head and the group rushed up the stairs with haste, trying to catch the troopers which were trying to get back into new cover before they could do so and complicate things further.
He saw the ground of one of the floors collapse through the linked footage from the drones, not one second did he believe the fallen trooper was actually dead, one of the Auto-frames on the ground level turned his weapon around, firing several bursts of laser fire into what may or may not be a corpse with the cold indifference of a machine, just to make sure it was one, whilst the other kept up the suppression fire. It was then that the tendrils extended from the other pile of meat which had dropped from the higher floors to everything in the immediate proximity and...
nothing. It was almost as if it hand't even registered the drones were there, did the things have no sensory perception beyond it's psionic senses?
Immediately alarmed, he remembered there were more troops giving suppression fire, ones who were in fact not machines, the autoframes head turned observing what had happened to the others in the vicinity.
Most of the Marines were untouched by the golden strings, moving on as they prepared for more of a fight farther into the facility. Larson, however, had been touched by the golden tendril of the panopticon. He gasped and went wide-eyed, his memories flooding to him.
The day the Great Stagnation ended, cheers and haphazard parades around the streets. The moment he was accepted into the marine corps, shipping off to basic training. The night he was pulled aside by his CO, commended for his accuracy, and offered a position in the Shadow Marines.
…And the year he spent in training- harsh training, but with a squad he loved. Meeting his girlfriend, the softness of her hair, and the way she spoke to him, always so chipper and happy; no matter what was happening. He wanted to badly to go back to that, to make it back to his girl and his squad, the ones that he conveniently forgot was standing around him right now.
Then everything collapsed, and his face stung. And once more. He flickered back into reality, the dreamlike state of the panopticon’s influence slipping away has he was pulled from the string, his helmet off, and Lendy slapping him heavily across the face.
“Wake the FUCK up, Larson! We already lost Drapine and Harrison… We arent going to lose you too,” she said firmly and with a hint of despair.
Larson had almost forgot she was right here with him. He’d missed the days she had been nothing but chipper and happy, but the both of them had seen too much for that, been through too much. But she still offered a smile, and grasped his shoulder for but a moment, then turned away, back to the fight that was sure to ensue. He knew she still loved him, one way or another- but now wasnt the time.
Larson put his helmet back on, and the marines regrouped.
With significantly less suppressing fire bearing down on the Dysonians below, the ones still in the open broke into a run across the room. Get out of this room, out of the open, out-
One of the soldiers stumbled and fell to his hands and knees, letting out a breathless gasp. He couldn't tell what was real at this point, the facility he was storming through felt so far away, so far in the past, so...
He could remember those trips to the museum with his Matron. Watching shuttles with his friends at the starports, eating takeout from that restaurant run by that friendly Skarrin lady, memorizing the different classes of ships, what nations they were from...
Maybe, when all this was done, he'd get a ship of his own. Visit Sohl. He had always wanted to visit...
The Dysonian collapsed, falling to the ground as one of his squadmates took notice and ran up to him. "I think Rikar's been hit!" He cried out, and rolled the fallen soldier onto his back, pulling him back out of the room towards the stairwell. "I..."
He noticed there were no visible wounds.
Then what caused him to fall..?
Then he noticed the string.
Further ahead, the Dysonians took the point of storming up the next set of stairs, determined to keep their momentum up against the Synopticon forces.
Seeing the enemy withdraw, The Sergeant would push up ahead. Firing some extra shots in single shot to take a angle on the retreating Panopticon, But they'd have slipped out by then.
<<Enemy squad has taken casualties. They're withdrawing. Hh..- We've been under psychological suppression. We will press forwards with the others since time is short.>> He reported before motioning the others to come on up. A droning headache would fill his psyche, Barely struggling to keep himself in reality. He'd watch the Dysonian sprint ahead and fall to his knees. Immediately concerned, He approached and put a hand on the Dysonian. Lightly shaking him. With a quick glance on his name patch, He'd call his name out.
".. Hey! Rikar! You there? Keep moving! You can't stay here-"
With a final shake, he'd sigh and pulled him behind something.
"Deedees, Headsup. One of your men is shaken. I have to lead my men." He spoke, running on down and getting ready to push out of the room with what's left of his squad.
The second squad began to walk up the stairs with the Combat Life Saver checking the room to see who was hurt. Taking up spots in the room.
The Cascadian with the long laser weapon watched as the Synopticon soldier fell to the ground, thanking his weapon and his allies for allowing him to take down at least one of them. He even patted himself on the back -- metaphorically -- and that's when he noticed the golden glow of the string reaching into his foot. He was too late to escape its grasp.
Instantly, images of his life flashed before him, pulling him away from the noise and the pull of the present. He recalled the moment he was awarded the Diamond Emblem First Class upon his heroic acts during the latter half of the Supremacy Wars - the only happy moment he could ever pull from that era. He recalled the many other, smaller instances of subjective and objective triumph: finding love; helping children as a private contractor for a far-away world ravaged by the Ancerious war; discovering his long-lost brother in a foreign land.
He wanted to return to it, to reach out to those moments. But he couldn't. His muscles were held down by something heavy and massive. What was going on? Let me go!
--
"Lock his armor down! Move him away, and don't touch the string!" The captain shouted as they fired their gun into the strings.
"Is he gone? Is he gone?"
"He's mumbling!"
With the fallen soldier ensured that it had properly died by the Network frame the remainder of the allied squads pushed up.
The Synopticon forces had withdrawn, allowing them mostly free reign to move along and upwards, onto one of the proper medical floors. Those caught within the Strings grasp would feel a deep longing, a need to return to those memories. The longer they felt it, the more they would need it, the need becoming stronger until they felt like anything was worth the return.
Come to me, shake off your shackles, your friends will only stop you
The whisper was powerful, tempting those to turn on their comrades.
Having climbed several floors and finally pushed through into one of the main medical floors of the facility the sight that now lay before them was one of a horror show. Blood and body parts coated the tiled floor and walls, Teddy Bears, completely dismembered lay scattered in parts and pieces. Their lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. Medical equipment on trolleys, benches, doctors and nurses all lay smashed and cut up, thrown against walls and more, the only sound being the trickling of blood and the soft warning klaxon which echoed through the charnel house.
Still as they advanced through the uneven body covered ground the first of the medical halls came into view, and they got their first look at what they were protecting.
Laid out into a gurney which was enough to hold an entire car and partially suspending from the ceiling was a blood-soaked lump of distended and cut open flesh. At first it seemed like some lab creature used to crow artificial organs, but then its face was visible as were tiny hands. While it had been violently killed, this monstrous creature had once been a man.
What the hell was Vosh doing here?
"C'mon, Rikar, let's... let's get you outta here, alright?" The Dysonian next to him said, quickly joined by a third as they began to carry his body back down the stairs gently, with some light hope that they might be able to get him help, one pulling out a knife and attempting to cut the string with gritted teeth.
Perhaps pulling him away would be the exact thing they could do to save their comrade.
Equally as likely, however, is that they were too late.
The rest of the squad pushed forward, at the head of the allied forces, alongside the Ghorrans, into the facilities and onto the main medical floor. They passed through the ruined furniture and lifeless bodies, guns raised and at the ready, checking every corner and room they came across to find and take out any hiding Synopticon forces that may have been waiting for them in ambush.
Finally, however, they found the main room.
"Via..."
The sight before them was... well, it was certainly unsightly for sure. "Is that one of those... uh... Coronans?" One Dysonian spoke up in disgusted curiosity. It was followed by a few uneasy chuckles.
"Stay focused, all of you." The leader spoke up in a harsher tone, and she gestured for two pointmen to peek into the room to see if there were any more puppets awaiting them, and waited for the signal that the way further was clear...
Asdryn looked the massive fleshy body up and down, as one of his drones conducted a scan of the biological tissue, as other members of his team checked whether all of the corpses in the room were actually dead.
---
In the meanwhile, the other two autoframes were still in the room they had been ambushed in but started to move up, though they kept their guns trained on the afflicted individuals, seemingly intent on putting them down should they prove a threat.
"Move them away from the strings immediately."
It came from the group comms.
---
Asdryn knew Vosh had been experimenting with psionics after seeking out the assistance of one of the Networks proxies, something he had learned from some of the data fragments he had been provided with only shortly before the mission.
Though he could've also guessed half of that from the fact the Panopticon appeared here, the fact that they only ever received what little they absolutely needed to know from the higher AI stirred discontent in him anyways.
He shook his head as the data from the scans came in.
"No, those are... Humans or were at some point."
He frowned, it was a miracle time and time again into what sort of monstrosities biologicals and especially humans could willingly or unwillingly turn themselves into. He could see why one would mistake these... things for a Coronan.
"We should continue moving, we still have time to check things when all of this is over." He pulled another drone from his belt and sent it ahead with the scouts from the other groups.
"Clearly not human anymore," Menthus said coldly, looking all the same over the fleshy mass. "Whatever the hell they've been doing here clearly has the panopticon worried, so i'd say it's best to not poke the corpse. Let me try something."
The dominion soldiers moved into the room quietly, a mix of disgust and uncare across their faces between the few remaining of them. They looked around to clear the room while Menthus moved up to the corpse, and a soft purple aura began to surround him- psionics. He was going to try to peer into the distended memories of the dead thing- if it isnt too late. He holstered his weapon and kneeled near the gurney, the aura of purple glowing brighter, and his eyes closing.
Meanwhile, Larson attempted to make small-talk with one of the Dysonians who happened to be standing around. "Helluva mess Vosh's asked us to clean up, huh? Seems they made themselves a big ol' target without even knowing it.."
"Sure looks like it." Came the reply, the voice of a young man crackling through the enclosed helmet he wore. "Though it would be a lie for me to say that I have any clue of what's going on around here... Via, I never even heard of Vosh or Synopticons before this mission, and psionics to me were only stuff conspiracy theorists ranted about on obscure interface boards up to a couple weeks ago."
He sounded a bit shaken, clearly someone who hadn't seen much real combat up to this point- But he seemed relieved that some of the people he was fighting alongside seemed fairly amicable during the quieter moments.
The species of the Alliance often were a bit distant from the rest of the galaxy, admittedly, keeping to their own unless nessessary, so an individual's confusion to being dropped into the much more complicated galaxy was understandable.
"...I'm... sorry about your squadmate, by the way. Those bastards had a lot of us pinned down..."
"If he's talking then he's still alive. Get him out!"
By the Captain's orders, the rest of squad began prying their fallen squadmate out of the area, careful not to touch or otherwise interact with the golden strings of the Panopticon. Eventually though, they had to try and cut the string, which wouldn't let him go.
"You two wait here until he's responsive. Don't go anywhere without telling me." Once again, the captain instructed. The rest of the squad would move with the other Vosh contractors, into the chasm of their test chambers...
The attempts to cut the strings ended in failure, the knives used to slice the ethereal threads simply passing through them like they were not even real. Only by physically moving the individuals away from the afflicted area did the strings finally release the individuals from their blissful experience but the siren song was powerful... Addicting even.
As the parties watched over the ruined corpse Menthus tried to peer into its last memories that still lingered.
The result was immediate, a cocktail of unimaginable pain and near death experiences interlaced with pure bliss and utter contentment. It was a powerful combination and more than enough to throw off anyone unprepared. What the hell were they doing to these once humans to make them endure such an oxymoron of existence? And why had Vosh gone to such massive pains to protect them?
The sounds of gunfire could be heard on the floor above them, and they were rapidly approaching where Annete had told them was a sensitive and important area. Screams and killing were all that echoed now through the corridors.
It was then that they noticed it, a faint glow, coming from the distended and horrific corpse.
A spool of string, much like that used by the Synopticon, but physical and without much of its glow and luster. Solarite, possibly a low grade version but again what the hell was it doing buried inside this monstrosities chest?
"Don't worry about it.." he responded to the young Dysonian. "War takes lives, and now ain't the time to deal with the loss. Not here." Larson looked away at the corpse and frowned.
At the same time, Menthus let out a deep gasp, the sudden pain and bliss shooting through his being as he choked and coughed, nearly falling to the floor. As quickly as it started, it ended- as he released his psionic hold on the dead thing's memories, coughing violently and taking a deep, shuddering breath. He shakily stood to his feet and grimaced, baring his teeth. He peered deeply at the string, and frowned. A knife was quickly tugged from his belt and he tried to cut his way to the string- grabbing and tugging it out to the best of his ability, disgust across his face the whole way through. Once it was out, he grabbed it tightly in his hand, and turned back towards everyone.
"There is nothing but death left here," He spoke loudly, lifting the string up. "This string is why the synopticon is here, killing so many. Im sure Vosh would appreciate it if we recovered their assets along our way and brought them back to them when all this is over." Menthus listened to the screaming and pain above them. "We must move."
Larson shook his head and shouldered his weapon, waving a friendly goodbye to the Dysonian and reforming with his group, as Menthus held the solarite string close, looking intently over it. He seemed... distant. Those memories had done something to him. Nonetheless, the Dominion marines began into the next room.
The Dysonian hesitated, then returned the wave, gripping his rifle and returning to his squad when the sound of further violence above them could be heard.
This wasn't any time to stand around and wait, they had been reminded. The enemy was still in this very building, and they had to finish the mission they had come here to do. Weapons were reloaded, squads reorganized quickly, and the Dysonian soldiers quickly followed the marines, the bulky predecessors taking point this time, machine guns carried as easily as a rifle, pointed forwards, prepared to make a desperate firefight as quick as possible against their unknown foes.
In the meantime, all the way down the stairs, the afflicted dysonian opened his eyes, letting out a gasp, and in a panic, pushed the soldiers carrying him away, resulting in the three tumbling down a few stairs, thankfully avoiding a much longer tumble. "What happened? Let me go, where'd the hangar go!?" He cried out.
"That string must have done something to him- Quick, hold him down!" One of the soldiers carrying him shouted, holding his arm and pinning it as it aimed to grab his knife, as the other soldier did the same with his other arm. "Pull yourself together, you idiot!"
"I saw it! I saw the hangar, the city, take me... take me back!" The afflicted Dysonian shouted, but his voice hesitated for a couple moments. Not sure what he saw... And he paused for a moment to remember. Those strings of gold, the memories they-
The butt of a pistol slammed him in the head, and he went limp once more.
"...By Sayyadina, did you really have to do that?"
"Probably not, but I'm not taking any chances." The two held the Dysonian up and began carrying him back to the landing site. Study and rehabilitation were in order here.
As rear group steered clear from the blob and the strings the two left behind APS units lowered their weapons and started to move up with the rest of the group.
In meanwhile Asdryn took a moment to scan the string which was stuck in the massive malformed corpse. It seemed to be different to the ones they used usually, it was physical, but still psionically active.
If this was why the Panopticon was here for they would have to ask what exactly it was and perhaps acquire some of their stock for research after this mission was done.
"Annete? What is your status? Can you tell us what these... strings are or is that also classified?"
Hearing the battle up ahead he nodded in response to the Dominion soldier.
"We seem to be catching up, good sign but we'll have to be careful. Everyone ready?", he shook his head internally, he would've asked them again to not charge ahead, they had already lost a number of people even if none of his own, perhaps they would actually listen if he would go with a more moderate approach this time.
He pulled another floating drone off his belt and sent it up ahead to assess the situation as the last stray members of the group caught up with them.
The Ghorrans would continue going on ahead. The fresh and the old one now together as they quickly yet so cautiously moved through rooms. Tense and eyes wide open as anything can very well come from a corner. With the caution, it was enough for the others to quickly catch up so they can move as one.
The NCO would grimace, hearing the gunshots above.
"I hope we're not late.. This better all be worth it." He thought.
"My status is they are almost on me! I don't know how long my security can hold them!" Her voice was laced with fear.
"The string is the purpose of this place, those who connect to the Panopticon can produce it within them, its a complex process I don't have time and I am not supposed to tell you but please they are almost here!"
As the forces moved up further the number of dead Teddy Bears increased. Until finally they reached one of the main floors.
Hundreds of medical rooms like the one they had encountered lined the massive almost prison like atrium, blood and bodies covered every inch as up ahead two squads of Synopticon troopers violently engaged the huge forms of the Teddy Bears. At the back of their formation stood a single man, holding some kind of scythe. Golden string seemed to dance and feel around him as he oversaw the final push into the command and control area.
"Welcome" The man spoke aloud without turning to them "To Vosh Inc. Pride and joy. A place where they subject willing subjects to indescribable torture which they themselves begged for just to experience what we took from them. All for some of this" He finally turned, a spool of the low quality Solarite in his hand.
He was young, easily late 20s, short cut hair and clear Restavian looks.
The solarite in his hand immolated a moment later and he raised his hand.
"You are too late, this facility has already been cleansed, they would never have let you know the truth if they expected you to survive here. You are as disposable as them" The man pointed to the disembodied Teddy Bear next to him.
This man seemed… Important. Menthus had no idea who he was, but his demeanor gave off power, danger. He pulled his helmet off and tossed it down. He pulled a pair of grenade-shaped objects, and placed them in the hands of the two soldiers closest to him, one a dysonian, and other one of the shadow marines.
“If the tide does not turn our way, use these. They can stop their psionics from functioning. They can stop mine as well, so be careful of their use,” he explained, turning away once more. He approached the Restevian, while the other Dominion marines formed in with Dysonians.
“Turn and face me, agent of the synopticon!” he called out, unsheathing the scimitar from his belt, and brandishing it in one hand. The other hand began to crackle as purple plasma congealed along the metal of his armour, pouring out like a liquidly lightning, of which he then used to coat the blade in it’s searing heat. Around him, embers of psionic power crackled around him, and he continued walking towards the synopticon position.
At the very least, he could be a distraction.
Back at the grouping of soldiers, Larson had unclipped the magnetic lock on his Lance-rifle, heaving it up as he began to take aim at some of the synopticon soldiers. The smart-visor in his helmet quickly connected to the camera in the rifle, and he started to relay positioning info, manpower, and anything else he could find about the synopticon forces. At the same time, he began scoping out a target to take out as soon as the first shots would begin to ring out.
The Dysonian- the very one who had spoken with one of the marines just in the floor below, took hold of the device with an expression hard to read under his helmet, and he clipped it onto his belt, before nodded, following the rest of his squad into the Atrium, which the squad quickly fanned out and took cover behind pillars, and whatever they could use as cover in general.
"Let the Shadow Marine handle the blondie." The order came through their radios, the Ghorran's radios as well. "He looks to be beyond our pay grade here... instead put some pressure on his goons, keep them from breaking out. We need some answers."
The sound of machine gun fire opened up from two different locations, as the robotic predecessors peered out behind pillars and laid out some covering fire against the rightmost Synopticon soldiers, with a couple of the fireteams moving forward alongside the supporting fire, the third fireteam staying back and laying out more accurate rifle fire against the hostiles.
All the while, the young dysonian with the grenade stayed with his back pressed against a pillar, peering just around the corner at the blonde man with the strange strings...
The fresh squad entered the room. The Female NCO would suck her teeth in at the sight of the man.
"Via- Via.. This might be it." She thought. Quickly rallying her men who were also quite shook at the sight of it all, quickly spreading out with the Automatic Rifleman setting up behind whatever was the best cover he could and just began laying in with his SAW.
<<Already on it.>> The woman replied. Quickly laying down fire at the busy Synopticon soldiers while the riflemen began took up positions to get shots off. The old squad of four would arrive quickly up the rear and began to take on a flank to help keep pressure of their allies by trying to gain a height looking over the enemy..
The NCO of the old squad would glance at the man with golden strings.
<<Above our paygrade, aye. We're ascending to look over the enemy and outmanuever his soldiers.>> He replied, Reaching the top of the stairs and moving along, hunched and weapon raised as his squad followed along cautiously.
Quickly they then set themselves up and began firing away. The riflemen seeking to kill the nearest soldiers and their gunner also simply just laying in on suppression of one of the further units that had been dealing with the teddy bears.
<<Would it be reasonable if we- Chucked a grenade down at one of the troops? Or we still on that explosives ban?>>
The Captains heart sunk at the sight. Whatever Vosh was doing here, It was indeed a terrible sight to see with the experiments laid out on the beds. In the meantime, He would give out orders to the Squad that was once outside to act as rearguard, setting up in the lobby incase to cover for their allies incase a retreat was called.
Asdryn moved into the room and began to fan out to the sides immediately trying to utilise any sort of available cover, moving into the first couple operation rooms if necessary.
He had no time to waste words on the man, but it was at least clear they had found who they had been looking for. He had been well aware there would be heavy casualties and Voshs questionable disposition without the psion pointing it out though he didn't even know how true that actually was for the AI's, still he had no intention of giving up on this shell today.
He hated to admit it but they were not equipped to deal with a psion of this calibre at the current time, it usually required more planning and information, though it also meant the information that he was here would be all the more valuable. Vosh had been busy since they had made the interaction and the Army of the Panopticon did not like it.
The autoframes affixed cylinder shaped objects to the bottom of their weapons, as they got into position and ready to open fire.
Asdryn eyed the surroundings as the first ones their side already led the attack.
They did have at least one advantage, having no soul or psionics, the synopticon soldiers could likely not sense them so long as they didn't see them.
'Attention, be prepared for flash grenades, when I give the callout.', it came over the group comms.
The man seemed to eye Menthus for a moment, he sighed bringing up his Unical scythe and throwing up a barrier around himself and his surroundings as the first rounds began to came in. The munitions deflecting off a golden shimmer in front of him to detonate on the walls or floor.
"Deluded, you choose violence when you can choose enlightenment and peace instead. I cannot understand why your kind refuses to aid in the next step for life in this galaxy"
One of the Synopticon soldiers went down to the initial fire, but the read spread out opening fire in return as the large open room became a battleground. The machine guns pinned down nearly 7 of the Synopticon soldiers behind a large locker of some kind while the plunging fire of the NCOs squad took down another two enemy soldiers before several Synopticon troopers also ascended to the next level, bracketing them with fire and trying to cut off their effective flanking attack.
As the gunfight well and truly got into its opening stages the man began to take some steps forward, striding over catwalks over open floors down to lower levels, he held his scythe at the ready, seemingly no psionics being used apart from the barrier that helped deflect rounds away from him.
"You should not have come here, I Jonan will put an end to you"
In a blinding flash of speed the man partially crouched launching himself upwards as if to use the scythe to bisect Menthus in a single clean but humane cut to his centre mass.
Interesting enough, as the two psions engaged the remaining Teddy Bears retreated through a large bulkhead which then shut behind them. Large metal cylindrical bolts locking. It seems Vosh would not give them any support for now. Was what Jonan said the truth?
Menthus jumped back and to the side quickly, barely avoiding the scythe as he brandished his sword. He eyed the wall erected around him, huffing heavily. No going back now. He straightened his shoulders, and looked Jonan dead in the eyes, his own glowing purple as soft embers continued fluttering to the ground around him.
"Peace cannot be bought until your kind are exterminated! You only wish power, control, death, like so many before have!" he yelled out, swinging his crackling right hand as a thin arc of plasma shot forwards, aiming to strike Jonan. With this, menthus charged in behind the plasma's wave, trying to use the light weapon he carried to his advantage as he swung it towards Jonan, aiming as if to slice at one of the arms leveraging the scythe.
Larson- and the other marines- pulled the trigger. A powerful beam of plasma shot from Larson's rifle and directly towards a synopticon soldier, while electromagnetic rounds and baubles of plasma from the other marines' weapons shot off towards others. One of them grimaced and grabbed a frag from their belt, pulling the pin and chucking it at the synopticon soldiers as hard as they could, aiming towards their largest concentration. At the same time, Larson's gravimetric cloaking activated, and he moved up the stairs, trying to get the closest vantage point he could without being in too much danger.
The argument between the two psions was audible for a few moments before it was drowned out by gunfire, and the space between them lit up with the colorful manifestations of psionic combat, something admittedly few if any of the Dysonians present had any knowledge about.
But that wasn't their concern at the moment- Right now it was the infantry organizing back around to return fire, though the predecessors were effective with pinning quite a few of them down, one adjusting it's fire to keep the heads of the group the Marine tossed a grenade at down, forcing them to choose whether to risk running through the withering automatic fire or try their luck surviving the grenade.
<<I believe Vosh no longer care if grenades are in use- and our allies here have decided to go ahead regardless. They clearly have bigger problems on their hands.>> One of the predecessors said to the Ghorran commander. <<If you want my opinion, fire away. And be advised, Synopticon infantry are trying to take advantage of the upper levels as well.>>
Suppression and supporting fire from the higher levels helped with the advance of the two Dysonian fireteams, but with the opening stages of the firefight playing out, casualties were inevitable.
A rifleman took a shot directly to the head, his helmet blowing apart in an instant and a dusting of chartreuse Dysonian blood spattered around the body as it tumbled to the ground, now limp. A second soldier was hit in the abdomen, tumbling to the ground and beginning to pull themselves behind the nearest cover they could. A few laid out automatic fire in the direction of Synopticon soldiers trying to pin them down, still trying to close as much of a gap as they could, assisted by more precise rifle fire from the third fireteam at a distance.
A voice spoke up from the squad, this time directed towards the man from the Network and his autoframes. <<Whatever you're planning, we need that help now, before we lose the advantage here!>>
<<That's what I need to hear!>> Replied a rifleman over comms to the Predecessor.
The rifleman would be in the process of pulling a pin of a grenade until he just spotted the several Synopticon soldiers heading up.
"Via- More contacts, right across!"
Having yanked the pin, he threw it over at the 'newcomers' before ducking behind whatever was available for hard cover, and the SAW gunner would quickly shift his SAW over to them before being momentarily pinned down. The NCO and spare rifleman with a grimace would move on down to try and get an angle on the new troopers that went up..
<<Fireteam one, ~5 hostiles are up here across from us. They overmatch us by one person, need assistance!>>
The other Fireteam continued to pour in fire for the Dysonians. The combat lifesaver winced at seeing a Deedee fall to the ground, and a wounded one pulling himself to cover.
"Hey-" He tapped a squadmates shoulder, "Cover me!"
The man obliged and kept an eye out as he fired downrange while the lifesavertook a good moment to wait. Suddenly sprinting out in a quick burst of power from his exoskeleton to try and close the gap. He stumbled on the way and ended up sliding towards the wounded soldier. Crawling closer, he grabbed them and turning him about to begin dragging.
"I got you bro, I'm bringing you to safety!" He said, Looking up as he pulled the Dysonian towards safety.
"All teams dim sensory input, firing stun grenades!"
The voice of the man from the APS came over the group comms, seconds before three of the autoframes raised out of cover.
One of them was shot down on the spot by the return fire, several shots piercing head and chest before it crumpled to the floor witha metallic clang, the other two raised their weapon, each firing a cylinder like projectile that detonated into blinding light and a sonic blast a few metres behind menthus, to avoid blinding him but still disorient their enemies.
"Be wary, they may not see you for a couple moments but they will likely still know your position via their psionics!"
The position of their allies, yes, though if they lucky not their own.
Several of the frames repositioned into the side rooms and began moving up through them in an attempt to get a more favourable positioning to pincer the synopticon troops, heading through the doors usually reserved to employees, staying wary of any enemies that may have hidden in the side rooms.
Those who had stood behind, a number of autoframes, Asdryn and another Android in power armour amongst them, began assisting in the suppression fire as the Androids tried to pick off more hard to reach targets on the upper floor with their gravitic rifles through the floors and ceilings.
"Move it, people. They're waiting for us upstairs!" Having left their incapacitated comrade behind, the remaining Cascadians rushed forward, increasing their pace as the distressed voice of Annete became ever more laced with fear and terror.
Having finally caught up to the firefight, they were dropped in the middle of a chaotic, messy, yet strangely organised cacophony of assault weapons, both friendly and Synopticon in nature. They caught a glimpse of a man who called themselves Jonan, or Jonas. They quickly joined in the fight in support of their comrades -- more specifically, by taking position behind the two Dysonian fireteams.
It took less than a second for the next Cascadian casualty. A high powered round from an opportunistic Synopticon infantryman meant the incapaciation of one of the Cascadian machine gunners. The medic rushed to pull him into cover.
"Sorry to barge in late, but what the plan here, folks?" The Captain shouted over the integrated comms.
"You have absolutely no idea what we wish for."
Jonan seemed to hold out his hand as the plasma wave swirled around him, unfazed by the attack or by the fact that Menthus had avoided his attempt to end his life quick and painlessly. Fine, the hard way it was.
Jonan twisted his scythe, knowing Menthus was attempting to get inside his guard and go for his arms, reversing his grip the psion stepped forward rather than withdraw, allowing Menthus to come in almost to run into him. He let the sword slip between his two arms and the scythe, the blade briefly cutting Jonans forearm before he violently yanked the scythe close to his chest, trying to catch Menthus arm and pin his weapon to the mans chest. Either that or catch the blade and try shatter it.
"We could have ended this quick. Why must you always choose more pain?"
One of the soldiers was cored by the plasma round, but the grenade thrown was swiftly caught by an unseen presence as one of the soldiers, appearing to be a squad sergeant grabbed it with his mind and threw it back towards the Dominion and Dysonian lines. His act however, earned him two rounds to the head as the Dysonians ensured the pinning fire was just as accurate. Another soldier went down to assorted fire as the fireteams moved up.
A second later the stun grenade exploded, the entire room whiting out as the bright flash encompassed all. But they had been correct, the soldiers did not relent in their fire, albeit it was slightly less accurate than before. The grav rifles were more effective, pulping two soldiers as they attempted to push forward from above. This in turn aided the rifleman on the higher floor, with nobody to intercept the grenade another two soldiers were blown apart. It appeared those above now had the advantage.
Still several grenades were thrown from the remaining Synopticon soldiers, who were very much now thinned out, two went for the upper floor with another two thrown at the advancing fireteams. Another grenade was thrown, this time another fleshball that seemed to splash over the floor emitting a scream that pierced through the minds of those nearby. It was like a smaller tactical version of the child they had encountered, yet more Panopticon nightmares designed to disorient and terrify.
"Because!" he called out with a fire in his eyes, "The longer I distract you, the quicker your men die around you, and the less of mine you slaughter in cold blood!"
Menthus grunted as his blade sliced the edge of Jonan's forearm, and began to pull it back, trying to jump backwards. Mid-jump he was caught by the scythe, his arm trapped by it as the psionic energies dug into his flesh, his body dangerously close to Jonan's. He let out a stifled grunt of pain as he quickly moved his freed hand. Plasma coiled around it, seeping out of his armour as if it was coming from his skin beneath, coating the dreft's hand in it like a sheath of scorching hellfire.
He swung his fist directly at Jonan's ribcage, intending to strike both a crushing blow and leave a coat of plasma across the psion's body. He grimaced as his trapped shoulder began to bend at an odd angle, and the pressure continued building up.
The blast of a grenade shot a piece of shrapnel through Lendy's shoulder as the other marine hopped in front of her, dragging her behind some cover. He began to dress her wound to the best of his ability as she cried out in pain. Above on the top deck, Larson shielded his optical sensors from the blinding flash as it played out, the automatic tint of the helmet saving him from blindness, but rendering him unable to make out details through the dark of the glass for some time. After it faded, he hefted up his rifle, and once again took aim, peering at the psionic barrier-bubble after fingering the dreftkiller device that his commander had given to him. If Menthus falls, and that barrier goes down.... He'll have to throw it.
There was a brief feeling of validation as Asdryn saw his theory had indeed been right, promptly cut short by the grenades flying his way.
He grunted beneath his helmet as the sensors notified him and in a movement so fast that it would not have been possible for a biological being pulled his sidearm, releasing a gravitic wave from it in an attempt to send them back to their origin as he pulled the trigger, promptly catching several bullets in the process, fortunately none of them lethal.
Having advanced through a couple of the operation rooms, the APS elements which had been moving around the main battle opened fire on the synopticon soldiers with more cylinder-like objects like the flash grenades from the sides and behind their lines, taking cover in doorframes and hopefully catching them off guard.
Asdryn, now behind cover observed the closed doors and the lack of 'teddybears', it didn't feel right, even disregarding what the man who called himself 'Jonan' said. A transmission went out to their landing ship, requesting info on the situation outside.
The Ghorran medic was able to pull the Dysonian behind cover, yes, but the sound of another sickening crack signaled the death of another rifleman, as the grenade found it's mark, splitting one of the riflemen in half and knocking their limp body to the floor.
Three had been taken down, cutting the team trying to close the distance in half.
Desperation began to set in.
THE PLAN IS TO STOP THESE BASTARDS. The Cascadian received a reply from the Dysonian squad.
What he means is, we need fire support. Our Ghorran allies need aid to keep control of the upper levels, and we need support on the ground. Who you choose to aid is up to you.
The remaining advancing Dysonians, using the stun grenade cover provided by the Network, found themselves pretty much face-to-face with a few Synopticon soldiers, and a couple took hold of their knives, drawing them, as they lit up with a neon blue and purple light along their blade, a bass-y buzz audible as their knives were activated.
'Tesla' knives. Designed to cut through flesh and armor as if it were one and the same.
One practically pounced upon a Synopticon, slamming them to the ground and stabbing their blade into their forehead. The other simply went with a slash towards another Soldier, aiming to practically slice him in half.
With a lot more Synopticon forces pinned down, downed, or otherwise engaged, One of the predecessors hefted their machine gun and rushed forward to get a more advantageous position to keep the pressure on the enemy, setting up behind a further set of cover, attempting to get a flank on the Synopticon soldiers, and once again laid open fire against them.
The lifesaver would be working hard to keep the Dysonian alive to look at the deaths of the Dysonians. But with the grenades going off and yellow dots from the HUD of his medical eyepiece would make him wince. Nonetheless, He kept his work, Scrounging through his IFAK and tending to the chest wound.
The other full Ghorran fireteam continued to fire away, Still giving covering fire. Though, when the Dysonians closed into close quarters, They would cautiously fire shots at the Synopticon forces due to some of the Dysonians getting up close and personal. The SAW gunner would swing his at that point to help assist the riflemen up stairs and the Riflemen began to fire off ponderous shots. The female NCO grunted,
"They didn't have to close in-"
The rifleman would peek to see the grenade get tossed towards their allies and gasped, He was just about to call out but by then it was too late.
"No!" He said, "Tricky bastards! They just flung my grenade at our allies!"
"I.. Shit, Guess we can't just throw stuff at them! They can't block bullets atleast.." Replied the Machinegunner, Flinching from a bullet smacking into the cover he's behind.
"We'll talk later, It's not your fault. Just keep fighting!"
The gunner gave the perturbed Rifleman a shake and got ready to try and return fire. Much to his luck when the APS called out stun grenades, The most with goggles would dim their visors and those with just eyepieces or nothing looked away until they saw the end of the flash.
The male NCO and his rifleman tagging along would press the advantage, Going further to try and get a easy flank onto the Synopticon troopers before opening fire on burst mode down range as the SAW gunner and the other Rifleman would get up and likewise began to fire down at their opponents across from them.
"How the fuck do we stop these fleshy monstrosities?" Yelled an unnamed Cascadian over the intercom as the sounds of his rifle firing filled the rest of his message, if only slightly. Perhaps he was trying to destroy the Panopticon weapon, or he was trying to return fire.
As the APS and Dysonian forces coordinated to advance, the Cascadians provided covering fire for them, peeking out of cover to hastily unload their weapons before diving back in. They also made sure to switch positions as frequently as possible to the best of their ability -- the prospect of being blown up the many grenades of the Synopticon troopers was not an enticing offer.
'What's the situation with Target Alpha?" A quick update sent to the HUDs of Menthus and his men revealed that 'Target Alpha' was a codename for Jonas. Seems like it was a status request only intended for them.
Jonan smiled "You think I need these men? They are not like you and me, they are soulless puppets"
He winced as Menthus punch audibly cracked ribs, the plasma coating eating away at the mans armour. The psion twitching as if trying to suppress the pain. In response he yank twisted the scythe aiming to pull Menthus arm from its socket and render it useless.
"You all lack conviction, if you could see what I see you would be in my very place. We have already won here, Menthus, why do you continue to struggle?"Jonans use of his name was almost siren like, threatening to pull the dreft back into his own memories.
--
The information packet from the ship in orbit told Asdryn that the whole arcology had been put into lockdown, additional bulkheads and more lowering to close off the already open entrances. It was something the Dysonian elements who had dug in around outside to prevent additional attacks also witnessed. Were Vosh trying to trap them all inside here?
With the covering fire from the Cascadians the APS and Dysonian forces moved up with the support from the Dominion fireteams. Losses were being taken, but they were clearly pushing back and wiping out the enemy. But every room they moved pass was a scene of the same, more of the inhuman flesh slabs dead upon gurneys or supported from ceiling hoists. There were likely the prizes that Vosh had wanted to keep alive, and it was looking increasingly likely that they were all dead. If that was the case, why were the Synopticon still here? To wipe the datacores?
With the numbers now falling rapidly the remaining foes pulled back, when engaged in close combat they slung their rifles, pulling out purple chakrams that sprung to life with black fire. Where they cut they did not just cut through armour and flesh, they cut through the mandala of a being. Meaning any slice was agonising and was prone to inflicting mental or brain damage as much as physical. They had no qualms about fighting the Dysonians in close quarters even as the others withdrew from up top, several being gunned down. With only around 7 enemy soldiers left not including Jonan it was a sign they were about to finish the fight here.
“Gahck-“
One of the Chakrams sliced through the armor of one of the Dysonians, cutting his chest open in a wound that shouldn’t have been life-threatening, yet left him sprawling back, screaming in pain and clutching at the wound. The other stumbled back, just barely avoiding being cut open herself, and with a free hand took hold of her side arm, pulled it out, and fired one, two, three shots in the direction of the soldier she was engaged with, backtracking all the while, as rifle fire continued to whistle by, Predecessors and the supporting fireteam continuing to advance further, putting more and more pressure on the last Synopticon soldiers.
Within all the chaos, however, one of the Dysonians, holding back and firing at a distance, looked over to the battle occurring between the two psions, and saw the bulkheads closing.
HEY, What’s the problem?! A Dysonian voice shouted at Annete over comms. You really gonna try to trap yourself in here not only with this maniac but with us as well?!
The young Dysonian heard this as well, and closed his eyes. They needed to end this quick.
Taking the grenade given to him by Larson, he waved his arm desperately to get the Shadow Marine’s attention. If they could coordinate, maybe they could knock out this Jonan’s psionics, take him out, and maybe have some time to escape before the lockdown truly started...
Asdryns mind was working as the battle before him slowly came to its end, the Synopticon invasion had almost been dealt with unless there was another group further inside the facility and even then, it was not like the bulkheads had slowed them down by any significant amount, so why go into lockdown now? Was Vosh trying to trap them here? Did they know too much for their liking? ...or did the Synopticon already take over the facility and was trying to take them with them? After several moments of deliberation, he gave an order to the ship in orbit.
"Annete, what is the purpose of this lockdown? Explain yourself.", he asked over the comms, it did make him realise they did not hear from her in a while, did the Panopticon get her?
Laser and gravitic rifles cracked with energy around him, vacuums closing after every shot as the APS troops kept up the pressure on the opposing force, meanwhile Asdryn kept an eye on the fight between Menthus and Jonan, even if they grenades should be able to shut down the psionics in the area, Jonan could still be a danger, looking at what the Panopticon created from their other soldiers.
The two Ghorrans on the flank would pick their targets off one by one, but it wasn't without difficulty. The NCO grimacing under fire before quickly diving to the side and firing off a quick burst that would drop a trooper dead. The other Rifleman with him would get shot in the thigh and was brought to his knee. He quickly fired off two bursts of his battle rifle in a panic at another and dropped another as well. With the NCO cleaning up another. He quickly ran over to check on his compatriots wounds and took out a Tourniquet from his IFAK..
"Hff- We got them good..!"
"Indeed we did.."
The two Ghorrans across would swing their weapons below after the SAW gunner quickly reloaded, Setting their guns to single shot to try and accurately pick off the Synopticon soldiers below without trying to hurt their Dysonian fellows in the melee.
The Ghorran Captain watching for his helmet would think for a moment.
<<Likewise. We demand answer, Annette. Why are you locking us in here?>>
Menthus let out a yell as his shoulder was ripped from it's socket. Pain rippled through him like a poison of hatred, his nerves screaming and screeching at him. His blade clattered from his hand as his fingers outstreteched, and his legs gave way.
A memory flashed, muted grey like an old movie, yet flecked with gold and yellow.
Rain pattered the roof, resounding through the small home. By his side a woman his age, laid against him and asleep. A false fire roared on a screen while heat was pumped through the house by air-conditioning units. In the other room, oil sizzled as something was cooked by someone, and another screen played the latest news.
"Welvar under assault as the Dominion's invasion continues. Systems to the north have fallen to Kepler, yet our nobles fight admirably..."
Time flashed once more.
"The Dominion's flag has been raised over the Starlit throne, Menthus," a soft voice sounded out behind him.
"Took them damn long enough" he responded, drinking from a cup. "I didn't risk myself giving information just for them to fail, afterall. Now we can rest easy, Laline."
She shifted, a crooked smile. A rare sunshine rose over the wartorn world, soft gunshots petering out as the last cells of resistance were cut down. Dominion vessels flew the skies, and...
His eyes opened once more and the pain throbbed through him once more, yet the memories only convinced him of his stance.
"Victory is naught but an illusion," he said through gritted teeth. "All that matters is doing what is right,"
The dreft took a deep breath, and focused his psionic energy. Purple ashes concentrated around the barrier behind him, towards his allies. His muscles began to tense up as his body gave way, pouring it's energy into the psionic attack- if he can destroy the barrier long enough for them to get a grenade through, they can win this- even if he must die for it.
"A desperate plea" Jonan shook his head, he didnt immediately finish Menthus off, instead he outstretched a hand towards where the Vosh command center had been located. The entire structure seemed to shake, like an earthquake as the reinforced walls came crashing in. A huge twisted chunk of metal and cables came flying through only to stop just inches from Jonans hand dust and debris falling from its mangled form.
With a gesture of closing his fist Jonan destroyed the main computer core of the structure and the data within. He knew Vosh likely had backups elsewhere at least of some of the data. But this would set them back.
"I could have done this at any point, I could have annihilated this site without stepping foot on it. But I HAD to Menthus, I had to look the old guard of my order in the eyes as I permanently ended their lives and denied them the paradise they abused and craved. That is the level of conviction you must have, even as you expend yourself now in defiance"
The last vistages of Menthus psionic power however burst forth a moment after Jonans final word, the energy flowing over the psion as if being engulfed into a plasma vortex. Jonan roared even as he brought down the floating AI core on top of Menthus, the multi tonne wreckage more than enough to crush him.
His barrier dissipated, just in time for the grenade throw by the young Dysonian to explode in close proximity. Jonan, pre-occupied with fending off the psionic attack was thrown clear by the blast, shrapnel scything into his body and scorching his flesh ruining the right side of his face and body.
He cried out in pain, struggling to raise himself.
The remaining Synopticon soldiers disengaged immediately, four of them being gunned down or stabbed by the forces still engaging them. Another died taking a shot aimed for Jonan while the other two helped their commander to his feet. He looked up at the forces who had wounded him, blood running from his mouth.
He spat that blood onto the floor in defiance "Ваши души будут в силе!" He shouted in Restevian before he and the two remaining soldiers, both injured simply disappeared.
--
"Are you sure?" Anette asked hesitating.
"Yes ma'am we simply don't have the forces left, even if they are the companies orders we would be suicidal to try and undertaken them" One of the staff replied.
"So we cant take them out? I see... The company will be upset by this but I don't want to die if we don't have a chance... Open the lockdown"
The large bulkhead that they had closed, now rendered moot given the huge hole in the concrete wall, opened as Anette stepped out with her staff and a host of Teddy Bears all looking skittish. The Vosh staff were dressed in immaculate white doctors gowns, with various tools and more attached.
"I am sorry for the lockdown, the system glitched as the core was taken out we are overriding it now. I thank you for your help here, defeating the Synopticon is a major victory for anyone. I will see you all are rewarded, despite the total loss of the project here" The last part was more muttered. She didn't tell them about the order to purge those who had come to help post op to keep the secrecy, she didn't have the forces besides how would she take down the forces outside and the ships in orbit?
"If you have any injured we can very much still treat them"
And just like that, it was over.
The final moments of the battle were chaotic, with one last declaration, Jonan had practically brought the ceiling down on the head of the other psion. The Dysonian pulled the pin on his grenade and threw it at Jonan, realizing it was now or never, and he scored, it detonating right next to Jonan with surprising force, as he leapt from the falling ceiling, falling to the ground as a chunk of rubble struck him, letting out a cry and laying on the ground, clutching his now wounded arm, blood already covering the side of his body and his helmet cracked open, revealing short, silver hair, light grey skin, and a wide, orange eye.
He saw Jonan.
He saw the commander of the Synopticon, the side of his body burned and torn, his now disfigured face glowering through the smoke. The Dysonian had been scared before, but now he was paralyzed, pinned to the ground by an overwhelming fear.
And then Jonan was gone.
He had shouted something- something he could barely hear and something that took the Dysonian's translator a little while to process, but what he heard caught him off-guard.
Your souls will be strong.
Was that a compliment? A threat? Was he speaking to his adversaries, his allies, or to the surviving employees of Vosh?
Those questions were pushed to the side when he looked elsewhere... at least three Dysonian bodies he could see. One missing a head and a right arm, one torn in two, one with a strange wound across their chest, and presumably at least a couple other casualties he couldn't see from this angle.
The young rifleman thought he could handle this, that he would be able to take victory even at a high cost, but not like this, not against this kind of foe.
He wanted to go home.
The bodies of the fallen Dysonians were collected and the wounded were being taken care of, but eyes were raised towards Annette and her assistants, weapons lowered and wary glances exchanged. Her explanation felt shaky, but none of them were willing to challenge it, at least for now.
"We have some wounded." The squad lead said, holding up an arm. "If they could get some care, that would be appreciated."
There were some mixed messages already. Did they fail? But they pushed the Synopticon back... were they too late?
The squad lead turned his gaze towards the other factions present... the remaining Shadow Marines and the mysterious robots so far still unidentified to who they served. If he could get the chance to speak to either of them, the Alliance might just get some answers...
Rubble burnt around them, embers falling like stars.
In the chaos, Menthus died. The AI core crushing half his body, pinning it to the ground. His own psionic prowess melted his skin, scorched his bone- and the grenade sealed the deal. It's psionic shockwave and the shrapnel and fire following it cut away his connection to the star in an instant- an instant of unfathomable agony before a metallic shard cut clean through his skinless face, dropping him dead.
While a psion of the panopticon could simply reconnect as soon as they were away from the grenade, someone of the star would have to manually find and reconnect to it's shard- meaning that even ignoring his injuries, he would have been dead anyways, after the smoke had dissipated.
Before he had been able to cast his own grenade into the fray, Larson was pushed back by the explosion, the upper floor collapsing and leaving him splayed out on the floor with a broken leg and more than a few cracked ribs. He cursed in both pain and disdain as he stared into Jonan's eyes, watching him slip away as the grenade that could have put him to an end laid uselessly, unarmed on the floor. If he had just thrown it, Jonan would have been dead- but he didnt; he couldnt.
Beside the rifleman, The Dominion marine flagged towards the nearest person, asking them to take over care for the Injured Lendy. As soon as someone had taken over, he began a sprint over to Larson, dragging him away from the raging flames of the rubble.
"Sh-" Lendy winced, looking towards whomever in the Dysonian ranks had moved to assist her. "Shrapnel, sh-shoulder. Think y- agh," she shifted her shoulder slightly. "-ou can get it? If not, a- a Medic?"
Save your strength, We will get you medical aid. The Predecessor’s mechanical voice replied emotionless at first impression but with an air of urgency, and Lendy could see the other Predecessor setting its machine gun down and pushing aside rubble to try to help recover Menthus’s corpse. Lifesaver, This way, we have more wounded here. He was calling to one of the Ghorrans, the nearest medical personnel. Vikha’Shau has been injured as well by the rubble. See that his wounds are tended to as well.
“You all better fuckin hurry, some of these wounds don’t seem to be natural. This one’s rapidly getting worse.” An audible reply from the radio. “Hold still, dammit, I know it hurts, b-but it’s all gonna be all right. Those Vosh folk will help, just hold on-“
Lendy was safely pulled away from the rubble, set down on the floor, the Predecessor gestured to the other Marine carrying Larson, signaling him to drag the wounded marine over where the Ghorran lifesavers could patch them up, and he began to recover the trembling Dysonian rifleman.
The Captain would acknowledge Annette. Still suspicious, but for now he'll let it slide as he had something more on his radar at the moment. He kept the Armor hunters behind but would send up the regular squad sent with them so that their Medic can go and properly tend to the wounded when they get there.
<<Keep your eyes open. Something very well could still happen. Aid the wounded and prepare them for immediate evacuation.>> The Captain would radio to his squads.
<<What of the others?>> One of the NCOs spoke up.
<<You know the drill, Aid them as well as you can, Their comrades will handle the rest for them.>>
The Combat Lifesaver would nod once he finished patching up the Dysonian, Beginning to work on Vika'shau. The Female NCO would order her squad to secure the perimeter, Except for her basic rifleman which she ordered to recover any wounded and bring them to here. Once the Medic arrived, he took over for the person the Lifesaver was on, and the chain continued..
The battered squad up top would hold their position just incase.
There was nothing left of Menthus but bones. Bones and blood and ashes.
Maybe it was better to leave him behind?
With the gesture, the marine moved Larson into the greater mass of people, setting him down beside Lendy as he leaned down, tending to small shrapnel wounds, cuts, and the broken bones. Larson whinced but let out no noise. A wetness pooled at the edges of his eyes, tears streaming down. So many lost here, for nothing. So many lives. People he knew, people he couldve known, and people who who couldve lived a better life.
Drapine. Tricked and turned into an empty husk by the shell of a weaponized child.
Harrison. A bullet to the skull and down his spine, for the sake of taking out a single synopticon position.
Menthus. Died trying to save them by a psion of the panopticon, in utter vain.
Countless Dysonians, Ghorrans, and Cadians. All the dead soldiers and disgusting teddybears and employees of Vosh Inc.
Even he himself almost met a fateful end twice, the panopticon's call nearly taking him away, and then the collapsing rafters and floor rendering him in his current state of injury.
He closed his eyes, and let out a sigh. Even though he couldnt stop Jonan- a fact that would follow him for the rest of his waking life- he saved Lendy, who laid beside him bleeding. Even David, the third surviving marine, was bleeding as he bravely chose to tend to his friends before himself.
That'd have to be good enough.
It was over.
The realisation came only slowly even as Jonan had disappeared and the Vosh personnel entered the room.
Over.
Surrounded by corpses, bullet cases and debris Asdryn stood, still behind cover as Anettes words rang hollow. He knew what they had wanted to do and he could tell with a single look, that all that prevented them from doing it was the simple lack of assets, to think not only 15 minutes ago they still tried to save her made him wish she would just eat her words. Damned corporate human.
He looked around as he checked the status updates from what was left of his group, they had taken astoundingly little losses, two of the autoframes had been destroyed, some others including him had taken mild damages, though all in all nothing compared to what the other groups had suffered, the Quosx had taken several losses, the Dominion group had lost almost half of its members, the Cadians he wasn't even sure, perhaps exactly because of their losses it was that they had taken so little.
...or perhaps they had taken so many because they did not listen to him?
It didn't matter in the end.
"No, we do not need any medical attention we will be... collecting our assets and then take our leave, we will be standing available for question for maybe another thirty minutes once we reach the shuttle and then depart."
He still didn't quite trust Vosh, even with what they said and how little... 'soldiers' they had still available. There was the tiniest voice in the back of his artificial mind that told him that, in some abstract way, he still owed the other mercenaries, even if it was only out of common courtesy, so he took his sweet time to collect all their fallen assets. As long as they were still around Vosh was less likely to try anything fishy.
He frowned in his suit remembering Jonans last actions and words. What had they achieved today? Why did the Synopticon soldiers not do this from the start? Were they perhaps not actually capable of it? Was it all just a bluff?
Or did they test them?
He shook his head and gave new orders. That was something the Proxies would have to work out.
The Teddy Bears spread out among the wounded, offering medical aid. Despite their fumbling large appearance they were expert medics and brought out advanced pieces of equipment to help tend wounds. Those inflicted by the Phase Chakrams however were beyond their capability, at least for now. Damage to the body however devastating could be over time repaired, but damage to the mandala and soul was an art not even Vosh could help with. Still Anette kept to herself and her remaining staff, seemingly unwilling to interact with those who had saved her.
SIGEC was transferred from Vosh directly to the participating parties, as well as various discounts off Vosh products. A seemingly small amount compared to what they expected. But payment was payment, and Adryn had been right, there was more at play behind the scenes. The company had taken a massive hit here, but it wasn't all over. They did have data backups off site, although nowhere as extensive as this operation.
Even as the various forces left the facility, through broken corridors littered with dead, they soon found themselves out in the frigid frozen wasteland of snow and ice outside.
The facility now was barely visible, a black ominous tower half obscured by the snowfall.
Vosh would use what was gained to make the break into the market it wanted, although nowhere near as ground breaking as they had hoped. Still many had died here, and the nagging feeling that Jonan could have ended it at any point left the question of why.
Why all this?
And the more important question.
What was to come?