196. Battlecruiser Torpedo

Inside the Vanguard Alpha battlecruiser, multi-level platforms surrounded the perimeter of its massive hull. The repair hangar brimmed with a cacophony of shouts, yells, cranking metal, and the crackle of welding torches. The scent of oil, powder, and sweat was concentrated here. Personnel in orange jumpsuits and hard hats eagerly performed quick repairs on the metal giants resting on the hangar floor. With the help of small service bots, the technicians were able to work with the heavy components of the Armatus mechs.

The noise outside was even more sinister. War machines buzzed in and out erratically as they went in for a quick-swap and returned to the front line, keeping the pressure on their sole enemy: the Zeigerlich battlecruiser.

A damaged Armatus limped through the hangar door on its left leg. As the knight tried to stabilise his mech, the thrusters sputtered out, leaving only a trail of hot exhaust.

“Shit!” the knight cursed as his tonnes of metal crashed onto the hangar floor.

Sparks flashed as his machine scraped across the checker plates, accompanied by a loud, erupting screech that startled the nearby workers.

One of the P.N.I. bots drifted overhead to help right the fallen Armatus.

“You good, sir?” a worker asked, his voice full of concern.

The cockpit door at the torso hissed open, and a Gold Knight soon climbed out. “I guess?” he returned, then jumped down. His personal thrusters blasted a few times to slow his descent.

The knight unmasked himself, revealing a smirk. Naturally, the soot-faced workers gathered around him.

“Get her fixed, will ya?” the knight said, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“Sure, sir!” a senior technician nodded eagerly. His tone shifted to nervous once he was within whispering distance, “How’s the front line, sir?”

The knight’s smile faded, replaced with a dry laugh. “Haha, don’t worry, don’t worry. Their forces are dwindling. A few more pushes…” The Gold Knight pointed at the senior technician’s chest. “And we will win this war.”

A collective exhale of relief washed over the workers, their postures visibly relaxing as the tension in the air dissipated.

The Gold Knight walked over to the far wall, where he spotted a water and food station. He rubbed his throat, feeling its dryness. All the shouting did make him thirsty.

He quickly filled a cup with water, grabbed some protein bars, and found himself an empty bench. His eyes grew distant, and even the repair crew became a blur as he let the loud banging fade into the background of his mind.

It wasn't long before a service bot hoisted his Armatus upright. Another bot lined up a new leg, fitting it into the hip's ball joint. A mechanical drill rotated, screwing it into place, while a welding arc crackled, sealing the armour skirts back to their original position.

The Gold Knight sprang up, slapping his thigh in self-motivation as the senior technician approached.

The old man wiped the grease from his wrinkled forehead. “About done, sir,” he reported, reading the nametag on the knight’s left breastplate, “Gold Knight Sam.”

“Thank you for your service,” the knight replied with an appreciative nod.

Just as he was about to take a step, his comms rang with an urgent message. “Commander Sam! One of the enemy’s craft has breached the defence lines! They are heading—”

“Say what now?!” Sam asked, snapping his head sideways.

“Sir! The fighter jet, or whatever it is, is heading your way! Towards the Vanguard Alpha!”

“FUCK!” Sam cursed under his breath, his eyes wide and alert, his legs pumping as he ran.

“Out of the way!” he bellowed at the work crews, pushing people out of his path.

Sam activated his thrusters, launching himself into the open cockpit. The thunderous rumble was so intense he could feel the mech’s hull vibrate.

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“Whoa!” He exclaimed, balancing himself.

The Gold Knight threw himself into the seat and connected his hands with the glove controllers. The blue HUD screen hummed to light, illuminating his oily skin as the helmet enclosed around his head.

BOOOOOOOM!

On reflex, Sam motioned his mobile suit to spin, the mechanical joint at the torso whirling. Before he could register what was happening, the black fighter jet collided with his Armatus.

Time slowed, adrenaline flooding his system.

A flash of light sparked as the wings of the assaulting jet dragged across the hangar floor.

Repair technicians and other support personnel scrambled to the sides, their screams of terror filling the chamber.

Chaos unfolded.

The jet hurled Sam’s Armatus through the air, and it crashed into the ship's hull.

Sam heaved a breath as the trembling finally settled. The stench of smoke, oil, and ash filled his cockpit. His HUD screen flashed red alarmingly. A continuous beeping droned in the background, but that was the least of his worries.

“Bloody, bloody shit!” Sam grumbled, seeing that the legs of his Armatus had been severed. He glanced back at the billowing smoke, knowing a fire would soon erupt.

A crowd gathered, their wide eyes fixated on the carnage. Wind blew and howled through the large cavity where the craft had entered. The notion of ramming a craft into the enemy, turning oneself into a sacrificial piece, was a tactic from the past known as kamikaze. The pale look in their eyes said this was the craziest thing they had ever seen.

Metal plates snapped and the debris of the black jet churned.

“Get out of here!” Sam screamed, warning the onlookers. He tried to use his Armatus’s arms to crawl away, but its thrusters roared and abruptly stalled.

“Damn it!” he cursed, gritting his teeth. The fingers of the Armatus dug into the hangar floor, dragging him away from the wreckage.

“Sir? There’s something in there!” one of the crew members shouted, pointing in terror.

Two stylish figures appeared from the smouldering smoke. One wore crimson armour. The other wore white, with a sheathed sword at his side, his hand resting on it in anticipation of battle.

Both appeared unscathed, a stark contrast to the craft they had just totalled.

“Never again will I sit in any craft you are piloting, Astrid,” Friederich grumbled, his voice laced with a hint of anger. Yet, his face remained steadfast. He brushed dirt and smoke off his Arc coat, revealing its pristine white and gold accents. His ever-cautious eyes surveyed the interior of the Vanguard Alpha.

“I told you, Friederich. My Adamas buff gives incredible durability. You screamed like a little girl for nothing,” Astrid spoke up with a condescending smirk. Her curly crimson hair fluttered against the howling wind.

BOOOOOM!

Behind them, a massive explosion erupted, sending rubble flying in every direction. But Astrid just stood there, one hand on her hip, unfazed. Her low-braided tails danced erratically, yet majestically, against the whirlwind. She glanced down at the people below, her eyes glowing as she smirked menacingly.

The new Lunarius had made her grand entrance aboard the enemy battlecruiser. Terrified screams echoed alongside frantic footsteps as the crew fled in every direction. One stumbled on the debris and fell. His friend helped him up, and they both struggled to speed away.

“No active knights here. Except for that Armatus unit,” Friederich analysed, sweeping his eyes across the hangar. The legless Armatus had stopped moving after a while.

Commander Sam crawled out of his cockpit with difficulty, his hand reaching for his comms. “Enemy onboard! Enemy onboard, send everyone to Workshop Section A-012, now!”

Suddenly, a dark shadow was cast over him. The air thickened with suspense, so much so that he forgot to breathe.

A menacing figure stood over him, her face downcast, eyes flashing red. “Should have shut your bloody trap!” her deep, intimidating voice bellowed.

The awkward pause lasted only a second before Gold Knight Sam frantically reached for his cannon, raising it.

But Astrid’s reaction was much faster. She closed the distance in a fraction of a second, her ruby-red eyes streaking a trail of light.

THUD!

Her shoulder slammed into the knight. He gasped as the tremor jolted his lungs.

Sam swung a left hook, but Astrid had already landed another jab to his side.

“AH!” he grunted in pain. His vision flashed red as the med-pack automatically injected a stimulant.

The female warrior outclassed him in close-quarters combat. She landed ten consecutive punches, each strike sending a shudder down to his legs. He could barely keep up.

Blood gushed from his mouth with a gurgling sound.

Astrid’s devious smile widened as she spun and delivered the finality with her kick.

CLANK!

The powerful momentum sent Sam crashing into a wooden crate. His personal armour shattered. Wood splintered as debris and metal parts flew in every direction.

Astrid straightened herself, placed one hand on her hip, and brushed her fingers over her nose. “Weak.” She scoffed. There was no movement from the Gold Knight after that.

An erratic alarm blared. Friederich's heightened senses detected the faint sound of hurried footsteps and the whirring of cannons.

He approached the Lunarius. “Astrid. They’re coming.”

“Ozzz!” she exclaimed, slamming a fist into her palm before falling into a basic stance, ecstasy surging through her. Meanwhile, Friederich lifted his hand, summoning his glowing blades.

“May Ares bless us with victory!” Astrid exclaimed, exuberant.