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Point Zero: Of Gods Old And New: 5
🕑 Added 2024-08-31 18:07:32 +0000 UTCPoint Zero: Of Gods Old And New: 5
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Commissioned by Ichypa
Wordcount: 2500
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We went with the American offering for our mech, since we had news that a new set was being stationed in on of the bases close to Point Zero. By close, I meant in a battle station in orbit covered in point defense weapons and massive guns, as well as a lot of soldiers in power armor chomping at the bit. Still, while there’s a lot of capacity nowadays to send up into space thanks to innovations in material sciences and energy production, with some biological innovations making it possible to produce Helium 3 and using it as fuel for fusion reactors, it’s still expensive to keep everything in orbit.
No one’s stupid enough to base ground control infrastructure for the network of satellites and defenses, of course, but spare parts aren’t flown up there. If a bunch of mechanized frames drop down from orbit, they get maintenance groundside before being flown back up through a dedicated orbital transporter. As far as material sciences have gone, top-of-the-line military vehicles still get wear and tear. Anyway, with the new strike force coming online, that meant that spare parts would be easily available in the region. It was the same as buying a car everyone else had.
Mechanics would have the parts in stock because everyone has them, therefore fixes will be easier.
No need to wait for a finely-machined part imported from a single country to make sure that it functions.
With that in mind, we got our mech for our district of Verdict, and it was a beauty.
“Will you be needing assistance in it’s maintenance?”
“Only if it needs an overhaul. I can guide the bots to fix it up, if the chassis isn’t completely trashed. They can fuel it, rearm it, update it, and all that jazz on their own.” The F-48 was a streamlined, bipedal machine that almost looked too fragile for conflict. Its legs and arms were thin and looked duplicitously weak, while its torso/main body took more after a flying wing design than a humanoid chest with a head. The head was nearly flush with the body and at first glance it looked silly. Honestly? It was silly, like an arrowhead that sprouted a tiny head and some spindly limbs. Then, you look at the armament, and it stops being silly. “This little thing carries a lot of munitions.”
The Americans believed in fast, precision weaponry with a lot of firepower, while everyone else worked on outlasting and outfighting bioweapons. They want their opponents dead and their machines flying back to base after a single salvo of an air wing. If that can’t be achieved, then it’s back to the drawing board.
The F-48 had optical camouflage, was mostly an engine and the power source, had beyond-horizon sensors, integrated information suite, and the rest of it was dedicated to carrying a ludicrous number of missiles. Autocannons or energy cannons were secondary weapons at best and you could go as far as to say the limbs were just there to provide extra hardpoints. The whole goal of the thing is to intercept large Bioweapons with missiles normally carried on ships, or carry enough missiles with bomblets to annihilate herds of thousands.
Given the fact that Gwen could hold ground just fine, and had firepower that could deal with anything short of real, superheavy military assets, this was the right call. If there was something that she couldn’t deal with, this can be called in, hit that target real hard, and come back to the base to get more strapped in to come back in under a quarter of an hour.
“Have its default weapon loadout be cryogenic warheads. The largest it can carry.” Gwen stated and gave a nod. Cryogenic warheads are one of the key assets deployed by the UN. There are very few things out there that are resistant to suddenly having their internal temperature lowered so fast that ice crystals don’t have time to break cell walls. Energy shielding, usually reserved for landships or stratospheric fortresses, was the only real method to counter the stuff. They mission-killed vehicles with ease, worked on most Bioweapons, and even the hunter-killers get caught up in them, since they’re more suited to high temperatures than low. “What about the wingmen?”
Right, that was part of the deal.
“Haven’t taken a look at them yet, but they’re looking pretty robust.” The F-48 came with four wingmen assault drones that took after jet-based VTOL aircraft perfected before all the planet-ending-disasters hit Earth. They were sleek and had no straight surfaces and were like arrowheads without control surfaces. Their purpose was to keep the F-48 alive, and they did that by providing additional missiles, more sensor data, and even sacrificed themselves to keep the main unit alive. A strike group of F-48s would number five of the mechs, and they’d lag after their twenty accompanying wingmen, who’d also send out junk sensor data, throw up holograms, and all sorts of other chaff. “Don’t know how useful they’ll be, since we’re not engaging whole armies, but they can provide fire support. Strafing runs with some cryogenic beams can work for a bit of dogfighting, too.”
“Arm them as such, and have them patrol our district and intervene supporting our normal Drone forces.” Oh, that was an idea. Most of our regular policing was done through our various Drones. Most of the two-meter hulking machines were regular patrols that can breach and clear criminal dens and bring out everyone alive thanks to heavy armor and judicious amounts of stunning electrical projectors. Granted, if we weren’t all infected and Bioweapons, those would be lethal. However, most people can take a few thousand volts and get up the next morning just fine… with a few bowel issues and addled brain for a few weeks, but mostly fine. Better than dead. Or decapitated. “Assign them to assist our Heavy Drones primarily, but provide support to our regular Drones if they are not on assignment.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have that plotted out nice and neatly.” They’ll be a grand addition to the normal, rote patrols we have operated around our district. While me and Gwen went around caving heads in during special cases, they did most of the grunt work. If it didn’t need overwhelming firepower, or technical know-how, then they could handle the issue. If people started acting up despite them, Gwen just goes around and shows people that they should be happy that monolithic titans of metal are their regular policemen. “Any word on whether or not they’ll be getting new armor like the mech is?”
“They will not. The armor requisitioned for the mech has proven to be costly. It took significant time to convince them to provide it for us. We will need to show results with it.” Right. The big deal with this mech was the enemies that it was supposed to face with us, in the form of Demons and other creatures that were after mankind’s budding godling. Joan was becoming a frequent guest with us, though the rest of her apostles weren’t so happy with the fact. They didn’t like the thought of their savior working with one of the chief forces of law and order in the city that lopped off heads regularly. Gwen’s reputation needed a bit of polishing up in all honesty… though I didn’t really want to share enough to do it myself. Maybe, if she asked and wanted me to, but not of my own volition. “That is why it is best that they are left to encounter normal foes.”
Normal foes under Verdict’s jurisdiction being Bioweapons, smugglers with ludicrous amounts of firepower, and foreign agents armed with powerful, prototype weapons.
Right.
“A bunch of killer autonomous drones with cryogenic beam weapons are much better suited for our regular opponents.”
Gwen gave a hum of agreement at my statement, while we looked around our new hangar.
Pretty heavily armed for a pseudo-police force, in all honesty, but with all the bullshit that we dealt with?
I’d go as far to say that we needed four more mechs and four more sets of drones.
Point Zero is just that ludicrous.
…
A god of industry and technology, the two cornerstones of humanity’s current civilization, which allowed us to survive this long. Without either of the two, if any, of the galactic weapons that hit us in the 1900s, or even in the early second millennium, our species would’ve died out. Hell, a lot of historians would say that the strife and global tension born from the early 2030s gave us a fighting chance, since so many countries were ramping up their technological base and their military industrial complexes ahead of a third worldwide war.
Before that horrible mess happened, though, things went to shite and everyone found the weapons we were supposed to turn against one another very useful against all our new foes. Drones were apparently being hamstrung before the war, along with loads of weapons being outlawed outright. Cluster munitions, one of the most useful tools against the likes of Bioweapon swarms, weren’t even in production anymore. Granted, it was a different time where humans were far more normal and far less tough and didn’t have to deal with horrific monstrosities that turned nearly all animals around the world into monsters.
Anyway, the more I investigated the matter, the more Joan made sense.
There isn’t a human alive that doesn’t believe in technology and industry. People living in refugee conglomerates scavenged for scraps of military equipment at risk of their lives. Those assemblies only existed thanks to airlift capacity provided by innumerable drone-based transports and orbital firepower supplementing defensive terrain. Any modicum of comfort anyone has nowadays is thanks to life support systems that filtered water, cleansed the air, and kept the temperature within arcology-based structures perfectly functional. Earth itself was in horrific shape, thanks to the Hunter Killers doubling as terraforming machines, and we were only reversing what they were doing thanks to advances in technology.
I doubt there’s a single human being alive who doesn’t have at least some modicum of faith and respect for technology and industry.
The population is prepped, the path is paved, and Joan just needs to showcase strength to get droves of followers.
There was a problem, though.
Apparently, Gwen defeating a Demon with her own strength and power made it so that she qualified for some sort of divinity herself.
Or, in her words, the dregs and remains of the old gods.
And, of course, she has her own specific views on the matter.
“I have little interest in divinity, especially with employers who have given me no terms and no privileges and no pay commensurate to my skills and experience.” Gwen had a hand wreathed in eldritch black flames. Black flames that Joan said were using the remains of dead gods as a sort of exotic fuel sort, therefore granting the flame the ability to kill demons and monsters. Gwen saw it as being given a powerful workstation by a company that insisted that she worked for them now. A company that gave no benefits or a competitive pay raise against the UN. “I would rather you take this power and take dominion over the realm that has latched onto me, Joan.”
I was serving some nice, real Earl Grey to them both along with some cucumber sandwiches. With my newfound wealth, I had a few imports back from home. A tiered sandwich tray, some tea, and finally a constant stream from bakeries and suppliers in the upper ward of Point Zero of fresh, real vegetables, good bacon, and fantastic bread. Gwen took a liking to the food and tea, so I made sure to have a tea time every day for lunch for the two of us.
And, a guest, if needed.
What’s that?
Not that I’ve got a stunner of lover that doesn’t hesitate to ravish me and lay down the law just in the right way, I’ve become a housewife instead of a skirt-chaser?
You are absolutely correct, chap.
“…Unfortunately, I don’t believe that I can. It’s anathema to me. I can feel it from here. The remains are filled with sorrow and hate and vengeance. They hold nothing new. The flames are eating them for its strength and power. It cannot create. It only destroys.” Joan was slowly becoming more human over time. When I first saw her, she was like a ball jointed, hyper-advanced gynoid. Now she was closer to a cyborg and looking more and more natural by the day. Most complaints with drones were regarding how inhuman they were, and the newer generations were becoming more human-shaped. In a few decades, we’ll probably see AI with biomechanical bodies that’ll help solve our issue with our lack of population… and who better to prevent a possible AI rebellion than an actual artificial goddess that loves humanity? “I am sorry Commander Elliot, but I cannot take it from you. I am not sure if I can even seal it away without harming myself.”
“Then, we will consider that avenue closed until you can attempt something that will not risk yourself.” Gwen gave a sharp nod, before moving onto the next item on the agenda. Joan looked almost relieved. It was easy to forget that Gwen was intimidating when she was all covered up in armor, a hooded coat, and a mask. UN regulations stated that she needed to always wear her uniform when functioning as an employee, barring emergency circumstances and suit failures, and she obliged. That sadly extended to any social outreach programs that they’d fund on our behalf. If I wanted to raise her fame with her handsome looks on full display, it’d have to be funded by me… and that felt wrong. Paying for other people to look at my Gwen? It nearly made my blood boil. “I have reported the matter to the UN and they requested your input. Please fill out this form and hit send when you are done.”
Joan, naturally, nodded and didn’t balk at the form sent her way.
She was half-machine, therefore she could fill out that thirty-page monstrosity in an instant.
And, she did.
“Done. I have sent the information forward to your command chain, Commander Elliot. I conversed briefly with the AI overseeing operations here. I believe that they will likely have you constrain usage of that power only to foes that are supernatural in nature, unless otherwise specified.”
“Will a categorized listing of such foes be provided?”
“Of course, I will assist in compiling the list myself!”
“Much appreciated.”
I drank some tea, while the two of them babbled bureaucracy regarding the handling of supernatural entities with divine power.
Machinery of mass destruction and mechanized vehicles are more my wheelhouse.
I’ll take a look at the itemized list of supernatural entities around the world later though
Comments
Ichypa
I never get tired of seeing demons and gods getting hit with paperwork.
