Stormfortress Tchangoor
Two hours later
The plan was met with blurred ranges of disgust and disbelief. However, the total risk
involved was far less than meeting a Bolo headon. The captain each went off to their
separate tasks before moving out.
Anagol Shupali was met by Agira-01, Seona Makavili, as he ordered the bio-capsules and
training cadres pushed into the pyramid ship. She saluted primly.
"Sir, I request that I remain behind to support the defense of this facility." She stood
tall, with flowing green hair, a classical beauty. She was in her late teens, and that
she remained a fighting officer was a testament to her skill... and in an inderect way,
Captain Shupali's own in molding her personality. She represented hope to the younger
soldiers, but in the end just another tool.
He let his glasses glint again. Ahh, such despair and hatred she must be feeling. The
T-Link System would be powered up considerably. Yaoi forces had on high command several
genius strategists, and one of them dug up the notion of the Sacred Band of Thebes. A
company of elites composed entirely of paired homosexual lovers, one older and one
younger, who being thus bonded would theoretically have a lot more invested in keeping
the soldier standing next to them alive and thus fight harder in their defense (and be
more prone to berserking at the enemy's expense if their lover fell). And it worked. The
Thebans managed to humiliate the Spartans, defeating a much larger force with good tactics
and utter fearlessness.
However, bishonen forces were rather too valuable for this. Yuri however, was a complete
anathema to their creed. Combat pairs however, were far too useful... so the basis of his
training regimen was complete dependence upon each other in the only pseudofamily group
the non-disposable troops were allowed to form.
Still, orders were orders. The Duke of Alexis was in candidancy for Princehood, and failing
to comply with his commands was a road to slow, agonizing suicide. He shook his head.
"The Karingdol was already defeated, Seona. Your mecha is the only prototype left."
"Sir, the two were always intended to fight in pairs. If you had sent us both out..."
"Are you questioning orders, little Seona?"
Fear and shame crossed her face. "Sir, no sir. I... accept the wisdom of the orders, sir."
she bowed deeply. That damned Bolo...! She would have her revenge.
"Good. Look after the cadre for me, I still have things to do here." He grinned, his glasses
completely reflective. "If I should happen to die here, tell my clone backup 'Enter phase
two of the experiment'."
"Sir! That's...!" The mere thought of him being less than perfect, it was inconcievable.
"You will prevail as always, sir."
"Well, if they should happen to -cheat- their way into victory, do avenge my death too,
would you?" He cackled and sent her away.
-
-
Bolo Good Shepherd
Same time
The situation most likely began as soon as the girl woke up. She woke up screaming.
The sound is unpleasant to me. I am programmed with an urge to protect humanity,
but a certain urgency when it comes to immature humans on the battlefield. This is
still a war zone.
"It's all right. You're safe." Shinji was there to comfort her. "No one wants to hurt
you here."
Ayami Daikoro looked around, wide-eyed. From the open pit of the main hangar and its
mech standby bays to the side chambers, my insides are a study in sharp contrast.
She patted the luxurious guest bed she was on, in one of my secondary rooms that
seem more like a hotel suite. Just a short walk away, the gantries level with the face
of Evangelion Unit-01 MP.
"Am I... inside a Bolo...?" she whispered. Her fear is understandable. No Bolo has ever
failed in its stated mission. Besides, we are big and recognizable. The enemy takes us
well as a symbol of TFF's martial might. There is also disbelief, since it lacks all the
skulls and torture facilities she might have been expecting.
"Aye. Introduce yourself, would you, Shepherd?"
I am Bolo, Mark XXXVI of The Line, 14141-GSP, "Good Shepherd" to those who know
me. She cringed at the echoing timbre of my speaking voice. I apologize. I also made
explanations to the order that I am a Bolo, not my littler and more uncouth cousin, the
Baneblade. I was at her service.
She looked unconvinced. The introductions started going around. She had already
been introduced to Shinji Ikari, pilot of the Evangelion. Over there, in the light blue
eighties clothing, with his poofy eighties hair and troubled teen looks was Camille Vidan.
Lounging nearby was the strongly-built Alexandros Magnos The Second, whose face
might as well have been carve out of marble. Standing some distance away as not to
seem threatening, with his olive complexion and dark blue uniform was the commander
Charles Bhepin.
What likely disturbs most people is that my official crew -looks- as if they should be
with the yaoi forces. None of them were in any way specifically attractive or bishonen,
but they were each tall and with compact builds.
"Wha... what do you want from me?" she mumbled out, drawing her knees up to her
chest. I wonder if perhaps they had served their lolis propaganda about rape. It is as
terrifying thing, and along with her words earlier about our barbaric ways... most likely
that it was how she and most of their forces believe how the males of TFF conduct
themselves. The fear and shame in her eyes... my commander turned away, lest his
angry face frighten her.
"... purge them in cleansing flame." he whispered. After a while, he turned back. "What
do we want?" He grins. "We want you to feed. You must be hungry." He looked up and
said "Chocolate cake, Bavarian. Purest decadence."
I cater to your merest bourgeois whim, commander.
Zot. I replicates a cake and brought it out onto a table nearby.
Zot?
Yes, zot. Perhaps breem! is more accurate for the transporter effect? I comply. The
narrative continues.
Alexander II helped her out of her hesitation by that no one planned on eating her, at
least not until she grows up more... and by that point she might enjoy it. A toolbox
flew up and struck him upside down the head for no readily apparent reason. Camille
looked smug.
The other two just laughed. And it was there, I believe, that she realized that they
were really just people too. However... she frowned... they were still the enemy. She
was a prisoner, no matter how pleasant the surroundings. She slowly put a spoonful
of cake into her mouth.
She fainted. Apparently, the yaoi training program purposely prevented them from
knowing the full range of taste sensations possible. They were not encouraged to look
past their bland, if nutritious glop. Eventually, they would deem organic and cooked
food as inefficient and inferior, as mere flavor useless trifles.
"It's like the Zentraedi all over again...!" the commander groaned. "Didn't they already
co-opt the Zentran...? Their culture might be pathetic, but it was still more than those
who know nothing but battle could handle."
"How many more children do you expect to save during this campaign?" asked Camille.
"I don't think they'll actually fit in here."
"All of them." he ground out. "We will save them all, if we can. Right, Shinji?"
The boy nodded firmly.
Alexander II merely chuckled, rubbing at the back of his head. "But eventually, they
will send another child at us, to kill or die. You know this. The closer we reach the
fulfillment of our campaign objectives, the more desperate the enemy will become. We
have... seen this before."
"We can't send anyone back to deprogramming until the Fleet returns." Camille warned.
"Don't trust blindly. She's cute, but she can still be deadly. We don't know how deep
they put their hooks into her."
-
A few hours later, we were under attack again. A squadron of Garlion-F, flying mass-
produce mecha that were little more than discs with legs and arms to hold a G-Railgun.
Its shape gave it decent armor angling, but unfortunately not nearly enough for even
the lightest of my cannons.
We scrambled into action. The Zeta and the Bucephalus went up, while the Evangelion
lay back in preparation for launch.
"Hey, aren't you going to secure me at least?!" the girl shouted in indignation. "I'm still
your enemy, you know! You can't just go into battle and leave me free to do whatever
I want...!"
"Miss Daikoro, are these mecha piloted or controlled by bioroids?" was the commander's
response instead. "Now, I'm not sure any pilot would actually be stupid enough, even
with coercion, to attack a Bolo with such pathetic forces... but I must know."
"... you... you can't expect me to help you..." she mumbled out. They had been so
disturbingly nice. It was perfectly all right to fight for her friends or her beliefs, she
was told. She could only conclude that they were all completely insane. They were
enemies, and they shouldn't be treating her like she had already agreed to betray her
own duty.
If she said no, then as much as they were being gracious... maybe that's when the
torture would start. "Just get it over with..." she added in a whisper.
"I didn't lie. We're here to liberate this world and its people... and soldiers are people
too. This is your chance to prevent unnecessary deaths." At least in this continent.
The other Bolos will not be so choosy.
The girl shook her head; no, they were running on AI. Automated systems were reliable
and merciless. Also, even with the slightly ludicrous mechanoid frame, it removed the
need for life support and inertia damping. These -should- be capable of reacting much
faster than biological systems.
"Weapons free." was the command. "Cut standard 'show quarters' chatter."
I laid waste to the skies. Those outside my firing arcs were easily taken down. AI in
mecha usually cannot deal with the precognitive.
Silence returns after three minutes. "Did we really need to launch for this crap?" was
Camille's complaint. The girl looked shocked. I believe she had equated soft living with
complete ineffectiveness in battle.
"We've been doing this for a long time... a very long time." my commander explained
wearily. He patted at a console. "A Bolo's home is the battlefield."
The only time we may rest, is when this world is free; I added.
Commander, high-energy source.
"Battlescreens to maximum! Camille?"
"We're not going to be attacked." the newtype replied. I am indeed most thankful for
the precognitive condition. The ideal synthesis of man and machine, Mobile Suit and
Bolo... this was thought impossible until, over time and great necessity, TFF managed
to perfect the protocols.
"Then where- ?"
Rathgrith.
I release three observer drones, towards the city. It is a drab assortment of prefab
buildings and weak attempts at greenery in the center of a rocky mountain valley. A
thin river allowed some farming to be done, but my readouts of standard stormfortress
construction states that such were completely self-sufficient. Likeliest function of the
settlement was as a source of bodies for labor, training, and... diversions.
Commander, we are recieving wide-band transmission.
"On screen."
A handsome, but stern male face showed onscreen. He had short pink hair that instead
of making him look silly only added to the disdainful effect. "Our world is under attack."
Ostendo Pillanar was saying. "You have been instructed on how these barbarians wish
to destroy the perfection we are all working towards. Now you know...! You will get no
mercy from them, and not any from us for those who refuse to fight!"
The girl gasped. "That's... Pillanar-sama! He's... " She broke off. After a few thinking
beats, continued with "He leads the military garrison in this region. He's a really great
warrior... and his mecha..."
"Is no match for this Bolo. The one you used was an experimental weapon platform
superior to his own personal mecha, wasn't it?" my commander said to her. "We are
adapted specifically to counter such wanking. As you already failed, he knows that
his own mecha has little better chances."
"There is a Bolo, and it is content to attack from long-range... this city! They have no
honor, these barbarians; no class or style or worth in existence! I know you can hear
me, you inside that foul Bolo! Fight us, man to man, if you actually have the courage.
Everyone here will die before bowing to your will. This place will burn rather than be
cowed by unfair tactics!"
"... those bastards!" My commander stands up quickly and slams his fist down the
central console. I retract the panel down before he could damage it. "They're trying to
make it look as if we're attacking civilians just for being subjects of yaoi. Dammit! We
need the support of the rebel forces already inside the city...!"
The transmission zoomed out to show the four captains standing at the middle of the
main street, flames and wind dramatically whipping around them. They all had swords
unsheathed. "We challenge you to prove your worth and your righteousness in the
truth of crossed blades."
"This will make things difficult. We must not give in to their fears that our goal here is
genocide." Alexander II muttered. "How can we convince them...?"
"The defenders are threatening to massacre their own people, just for an advantage!
We're almost useless when it comes to cities."
"Um... I'm still here, you know." Ayami Daikoro said, raising her hand. "Don't you think
it's bad form to say things like that to a potential spy?"
Shinji's voice went out of the Eva's external speakers, certainly an eerie event. "Even
if you do want to escape and give word, by that time it's useless anyway. Bolos have
a tendency to outpace their own situation reports. Specially for a tactical MOBILITY
Bolo."
It is good to know you are appreciated. Still, what are your orders, commander?
"No choice, then." He sighed. "Everybody out of your machines. Shephered, prepare
a Flying Thunder Stake. Get my old combat armor out of storage, would you?"
Sir? But that... His chair was already sinking down into the lower deck. I dutifully open
up the containers he wanted. Explosions were still happening on Rathgrith, making it
seem as if we were continuously bombarding the place.
I could do nothing but wait, as my people prepared. My commander walked over to
an open space on the third deck, and inside white circle there. He had on a dark blue
maoist-style jacket and padded pants. A simple cavalry sword was at his left side.
Shinji Ikari joined him soon after, a similar armor jacket over his plugsuit and an antique
katana on his back. Alexander II had a Grecian cuirass, a shield, and a short blade. He
had decided to forego the helmet, but wore instead a torc in the shape of victory
leaves. Camille had a fencing rapier and nothing more than normal clothes. Armor would
just slow him down, and it is true that not being hit is its own form of invulnerability.
I launch a single missile towards the city, slamming it into the road in front of the yaoi
captains. It breaks apart to expose a short-range teleportation booster. It is a common
wisdom that since teleportion was a hideous advantage, it was better to be jam even
your own teleport systems than to chance the enemy 'porting a bomb into the middle
of your command center. The short-range enabler activates only for a fraction of a
second, allowing teleport from here to the enemy zone and hopefully the enemy does
not trace and 'port something else back.
There is a crack, and displaced air. Combat teleport must be as rapid as possible, none
of that transporter shimmer. Air blows outwards at the arrival point, creating a boom.
The transit is instantanous. This is why the system is called Flying Thunder. It is an
unjammable single-use technological Hiraishin.
"Standard dueling panache?" my commander asks the enemy leader in a conversational
tone. At the nod, his companions run for it; spreading out. The enemy broke off to
follow.
-
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