Debauchery Worlds 17

Commissioned by Southmonk

Debauchery Worlds

Chapter 17

-VB-

Clone 3J4

The attack came out of nowhere and struck hard and fast as typical of 21st-century military doctrine.

The Rifleman piloted by 1M21 lurched from the strikes and explosions of air-to-surface missiles three passing jets fired upon it. The heavy mech, however, walked out of the fire and smoke with only black scorch marks and some lost armor to show for it.

It was their mistake targeting the biggest mech instead of the Locusts or 3J4’s Centurion.

3J4 turned his Centurion around and fired its dual medium lasers. One of the lightspeed attacks missed but the other laser burned through the wing of one of the jets. That jet began to smoke and then burn. Its pilot quickly decided to eject rather than try in vain to save a dead beast.

“[JSDF inbound. Heavy air, ground offensive.]”

“Any artillery?” he asked the long range sensor clone.

“[None that we can see.]”

Oh, this would be a cakewalk in the park if that’s all they brought. Even if the Third Succession War played out at a time when there was heavy technological regression, tanks and air support were weak and inferior to battlemechs. Our other world information collectors had already figured that the JSDF would most likely employ their Type 90 main battle tanks or Abrams tank imported from the USA. In either case, they didn’t have enough firepower or defense to win against our mechs.

Or was that the point? Was this a probing attack from their military to see how they would stack up against what they saw as “future tech”?

Then we all got orders from the main body.

Crush them.

A bloodthirsty grin split 3J4’s lips.

“Gladly,” he chuckled before he turned his Centurion around. His mech’s internal sensors - all of which were upgraded with their tinkertech - found the incoming helicopters. He quickly changed the weapon group system. Specifically, he switched his medium lasers from being grouped to being alternated, which would allow him to fire them separately so that he wouldn’t waste time or heat striking targets too small for both of his lasers to hit.

And unlike a regular Centurion used by mechwarriors in their native dimension, 3J4’s medium lasers were tinkertech lasers with extreme range and high firepower.

Instead of aiming manually, he let his computer aim for him on targets still too small for his eyes to see.

And then he fired.

The Locust pilots also fired their medium lasers, but they used their single lasers to target the other two jets still circling the sky and looking for an opportunity to strike again.

Computer-enhanced targeting system made sure the lasers found their mark, and they watched as two jets exploded in the air. In the distance, there was a flash of fire and then wisps of smoke as one of the JSDF helicopters went down.

With the jets taken care of, the Locusts aimed at the now stunned and reeling JSDF helicopters and fired upon them as well.

And then the Rifleman turned its lasers and its guns at them as well and fired.

“[We just wiped out half of their helicopters. They’re turning back,]” the long-range suite reported.

But that wasn’t an order to stop.

No, it just meant that 3J4 and the rest needed to keep firing so that what returned to their base would be a shell of their former selves and leave them too scared to leave Alnus Hill.

… Or better yet, retreat from Falmart altogether.

Six tinkertech medium lasers continued to fire, making streaks of green lasers streak across the sky. Each time these lasers appeared, something popped and burned in the horizon with distant booms of explosions and crashes. Pillars of smoke rose one by one… and then they stopped firing as the JSDF helicopters left their range.

-VB-

Pina stared blankly and a little listlessly from the battlement of Italica’s walls as the giant gods of wars stopped and turned the Men in Green even before they were within her sight.

And it also showed just how easy they were taking this invasion. If they had been a little bit more serious, then the entire bandit army would have been destroyed from such a distance that the giant gods of war could not even be seen. Perhaps as tiny specks in the distance but that was the same as not being seen in her opinion.

She realized that her previous hope of wanting to pit these two powers against each other was not possible.

If the empire was a Ryskan street dog, then the Men in Green was a horse. Yes, the dog bit the horse, but the horse trampled upon them. And if the Men in Green was a horse, then the “Marris” was an ogre that crushed large animals like horses with ease. There was no competition for her to exploit anything.

And it also meant that the empire found itself with not a chance to recover.

The way that the Men in Green had moved about Alnus but never strayed too far from it suggested that they were at least wary of the Sanderan Empire.

These Marrisians? They didn’t feel even an iota of concern. She could see it in the way their footsoldiers walked and talked.

It was hopeless.

She bit her lips.

She turned to look at their commander. He looked as nonchalant as an overwhelmingly victorious commander could be. This was … not a victory for him, not really. An adult winning against a child in a contest of strength wouldn’t describe that win as “victory.” It wasn’t glorious. It wasn’t meaningful. It was … a chore.

It was a chore.

The invasion of the Sanderan Empire was a chore.

Pina felt her strength leave her body like water flowing out of a bottomless jar.

“What happens after you succeed in removing slavery?” she asked tiredly.

The commander didn’t even turn to look at her.

“It depends. If it is removal in name only, then we will have to conduct a full purge of the empire’s leading class while ensuring that the regular folks remain out of the way. If the empire does try in full to eradicate the practice, then we will work with the empire but only so far as to confirm that the effort is genuine, even if reluctant as it will be.”

She nodded. At least they didn’t have fantastical expectations.

She glanced at the still-hovering boxes of metals that were bigger than the giant gods of war. Those flying constructs had the same weapons that the giants had but had much more of them. It made her shiver.

Was the fight she just witnessed also performed with one hand held back? Was that a fight where the Marrisians still didn’t use the full force available to them? A full force that, according to them, was not even one-one hundredth of their full force?

“... Allow me a chance to go and speak with my father,” she replied. “I will do my best to convince him that … change is necessary.”

“And if you fail?” he asked her, finally deigning to glance at her.

“Then … then I will come back here and submit myself to you as a prisoner of war.”

There was a long pause, which left her heart hammering in her chest. Would they reject? Would they ignore her? “... Six months, princess,” he finally said. “If you do not return in six months, then we will assume that you have decided not to return and list you as a member of the empire’s upper class to purge. We will not stop our attacks, however. We will systematically root out all forms of slavery we encounter. We hope that we will not have to put you down like a dog.”

---

Alan Marris

From the safety of the Marris Mercenary Compound on David II in the … should we start calling this place the Battlemech galaxy? It would fit the theme.

Regardless of the name we intended to call this place by, those of us here on David II celebrated our first successful engagement and victory with the Sanderans and the defense against the undeclared ambush of the JSDF.

It’s just so like the Japanese to stab someone when they weren’t looking, wasn’t it? We reached out, if a little verbally aggressively, in somewhat good faith. We made our intentions well known. We weren’t here to fight them. We just wanted … well, resources that we mentioned to the general had been the people (because why would we need crude oil or gems when we had literal planets and asteroids we could mine from?), but ultimately, we told him that “hey, we’re cool with you. You cool with us?”

And they shot rockets at our back without saying anything.

They didn’t realize until it was too late that they were technologically no match for us even before we brought out tinkertech weaponry.

Their action today reminded us too much of the late Imperial Japan that bombed Pearl Harbor. Was Japan on the other side of the Alnus Hill that much different than their canon counterpart?

Regardless of the differences, they shot at us. We’ll have to drive them completely off of Falmart, and that meant taking Alnus Hill.

What to do, what to do, what to do…

If we waited to fight them by mobilizing the rest of our forces, then we would open ourselves to a tougher opposition where they got their own reinforcements. If we charged in right now, then we’ll only have at max three lances of battlemechs, four aerodyne dropships, and less than a regiment of clones to fight them with. Even with our superior technology, we were bound to have losses and we can’t replace our clones as quickly as they can replace their soldiers; we can only produce one clone a day, after all.

… No, their number advantage and technology level meant that they might be able to drop bombs faster than we can respond. All of our current techs were slower than 21st-century jets in terms of pure speed.

We needed to strike them now while they were still reeling from the loss of their jets and helicopters - when they were at their weakest when it came to air superiority. Yes, they might have a shit ton of tanks at the ready to fight our battlemechs, but could they fight our dropships?

We didn’t think they could … but that was only until they got other nations involved. Now that hostilities have broken out, what must they be thinking?

A mercenary company with advanced technology (more advanced than anything on Earth) just wiped out a squadron of jets and God knows how many imported American helicopters. Their uncontested aerial dominance just broke in a five minute engagement. Their top brass generals and politicians would be shitting bricks right now.

… So why don’t we make sure they kept shitting and ran with shit stuck between their ass cheeks?

Ready the aerodyne dropships for bombing runs. Prepare for a full-on assault. Scramble the ASF fighters. I want the new aerodyne dropship to clear the field first.

The command went out, and all of the clones working in the compound kicked it up to high gear. All clones left their non-essential duties to take up arms.

Aerodyne dropships, those on Falmart and here on David II, became the centers of attention as we began loading unguided tinkertech bombs of our own make.

It’s only fair to return their bombing run with one of our own, no?

-VB-

Itami

Air raid sirens rang within hours of the attack, and he knew what it meant.

With half of the jets and their pilots destroyed, Special Region Outpost lacked the firepower necessary to prevent enemy planes from striking the base. More than that, the base itself lacked traditional anti-air guns and missiles to successfully repel an attack by a parity military, never mind a military force that technologically outscales the JSDF and the rest of Earth to a hilarious degree.

But Itami also knew that this wasn’t something he could fix. The generals had received their orders from Japan, and they had carried it out to the best of their abilities.

To acquire advanced technology from the purported mercenary group.

Now, they had failed, and from the clash, they knew that defense was not an option, especially with outdated equipment they were using and not the cutting edge that the Americans used.

“Yanagida!” he shouted when he saw the first lieutenant, who was hurrying to remove as many of the documents as possible from the outpost office. “Just what’s coming that we’re evacuating completely?!”

The office work-suited officer grimaced as he looked around the office where everyone was hurrying.

“The radars detected at least ten bomber-sized planes approaching us at Mach 2,” he replied. “They’ll be here within the hour. Help me carry these documents out of here!”

“What about refugees?!”

Yanagida grimaced. “They’ll have to make the choice to come with us or leave the base within half an hour. We don’t know what kind of munitions the mercenaries are going to drop on us-!”

Itami rushed out of the command post and threw his legs out as he ran toward refugee barracks. Even from afar, he could tell that they were scared.

“Itami, what going on?” Lelei asked him. The blue-haired girl had learned Japanese very quickly.

“We’re going to be under attack. We’re evacuating.”

“Evacuating? You?” she asked in surprise. “Who attack you? Empire?”

“No, someone else,” he grimaced. “You have to come with us … or leave the base quickly. The attack will be here within the hour.”

She looked around at the refugees and quickly said something to them all. There were tensions, whimpers, and even a few grimaces. Someone responded, someone else added to that, and soon, there was a consensus that he could see.

Lelei turned back to him. “We go with you.”

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll bring a truck over. It should be enough for everyone, right?”

“Yes.”

“Carry only the bare necessities!” he told them as he ran back toward the trucks.

By the time he got the truck, drove it over, loaded up all of the refugees, drove over to the on-base medical clinic, and picked up the doctors and nurses, thirty minutes had passed.

Itami watched from the driver’s seat as the last of the jets on base quickly scrambled to launch. Helicopters lifted off with a few brave volunteers intending to act as the rear guard.

But then before he even thought about staying behind to help out even for just five more minutes, he saw the first of their bombers and he felt his stomach drop. Though he wasn’t a member of the navy, he had the chance to see the Hyuga-class helicopter destroyer, one of Japan’s two aircraft carriers.

The thing barreling toward them now was at least half of an aircraft carrier’s size.

There were a trio of sonic booms, and he snapped his head around to see the jets coming around for a strafing attack.

But there were three bursts of green lasers, and each of the jets broke apart in the air and fell to an explosive doom.

And those same green lasers soon began to carve into the tanks and remaining aircrafts.

“Go go go!” someone shouted from the rear, and Itami floored the refugee truck through the Gate.

And maybe that would be the last time he would ever cross it.