- B-405306, Valor Construction Management, LLC, October 17, 2011
- The Venghi Ascension :: Star Valor General Discussions
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It was a war in which he only half believed. A call to valor and the defense of the homeland strove with profound humane sympathies for the plight of the slaves. Now, on returning to Abigail's estate near Atlanta, Colonel Morgan finds the land to be in chaos. Abigail is alone and unprotected; her father recently murdered. It felt as if somebody were hammering her coffin lid down while she was paralyzed but still alive. This particular fear was a well-worn track for the year-old private.
To suppress the panic, she angrily gloved a salvo of 30 thumb-sized diverters skyward. She quickly followed them with a pair of four-inch pulse-mortar rounds. Those would float gently down on parachutes, shorting out anything electronic within a five-meter radius until they exhausted their batteries. Her haptic suit pinched her to let her know it was overkill for the incoming threat, but it still felt right. The eight-wheeled vehicle crabbed sideways, swaying slightly as it always did when the castering wheels moved it laterally. C was the team troubleshooter.
His physical bulk nearly kept him out of Marathons—he barely fit into the combat couch—but the personnel algorithms kept selecting him for deployment. She began to breathe again, looking over at JoJo, 32, a staff sergeant and the onboard integrationist, who nodded his head to a beat nobody else could hear.
B-405306, Valor Construction Management, LLC, October 17, 2011
JoJo still liked the Venezuelan hip-hop he grew up with. His eight years in the Commonwealth Legion, testified to by the ivy-like facial tattoos that spread after each deployment, had Churchill thirstily drawing knowledge from him. There was little to say at a moment like this. Talking just got in the way of communication. Everybody on board was acutely attuned to the snaps and cracks, whirs and grinding that passed for a kind of dialogue between human and machine. Their Marathon, with its high-energy laser main gun and a menagerie of small antipersonnel and antiarmor bots, was supposed to occupy a blocking position alongside a joint American and Kenyan armored force.
The Venghi Ascension :: Star Valor General Discussions
But, as often happened, the Marathon had been rerouted mid-mission by an order conjured out of the digital ether and relayed to them by Churchill. Then the Marathon was falling, before the hull bottomed out and bit concrete. Between its current position and the likely path of approaching infantry was a massive crater, at least ten meters across, caused by a driverless—car bomb of some kind.
She did so with the flick of her pinkie. A tennis-ball-sized container dropped off the side of the Marathon and split into three disks. They rolled in front of the vehicle before popping open and ejecting a faintly visible tangle of tacky, silvery line. The web stuck to the cracked ceiling and the detritus that covered the floor.
The debris—car tires, a refrigerator door, shell casings—was proof of fighting inside the garage not long ago. Like all garages, this one made for a valuable impromptu redoubt. Back and forth the pucks rolled, weaving a nearly invisible web that would inhibit, if not stop, the approaching bots. The Royal Hussars drove heavily evolved Challenger 3 tanks, successors to the ton brutes that were the dominant armored vehicle at the start of the 21st century.
Days even. When was the last time they made a difference, anyway? Get in the way every time. This one time in Malaysia. Sticky lifted her goggles and rubbed her eyes, carefully adjusting the headband-like fabric around the crown of her head.