Faction Quest: Hand of the Empire [Complete]

[Rave]

After all was said and done, the 23 Seconds War would be rebuffed by military historians and armchair generals alike as being less than a war, but a battle at most and a farce at least. They would point to certain modern definitions of war: a conflict carried on by force of arms, as between nations or between parties within a nation; warfare, as by land, sea, or air and a contest carried on by force of arms, as in a series of battles or campaigns being two of the favorites. To support their beliefs, they would point out that it lasted less than a minute, that there was very little pre-established history between the combatants, the exceedingly low number of casualties, and the fact that no land or territory had been seized, the hallmark of any great war. What they could not know was that if the latter circumstance was the measuring stick, the conflict was the war to end all wars.

The 23 Seconds War took place at 4:00pm EEST exactly on Sunday, June 6th, 2022. At 3:59pm, the 88th Dragoons of the North had surrounded the ruins of Philippi, having arrived the day prior and awaiting orders to move in. They were joined by an air cavalry detachment from the East, whose silent attack choppers hovered against the clear blue sky, actively camouflaged. Other units took part, of course—commo provided by the South, logistics from the West, quartermaster units in the rear—but the 88th Dragoons were by far the most dominant players.

Crouched amidst the hills and woods surrounding the ruins were a full regimental element of personnel. The Dragoons were noted for utilizing both mobile armor and infantry in concert with each other. Their armor of choice for this excursion were the feared R61 Typhoons. Utilizing the latest developments in long-range precision weaponry and mutant gene mining, they boasted a high plate rating that did nothing to deter from their speed—as part of the Roman arsenal, there was no doubt that some mutant cells had been harvested in order to lend the Typhoon its hovering ability. Up against this formidable opponent: two mutants. Only one would ever make their presence known throughout it all. The other, sitting atop one of the several clouds populating the sky that afternoon, would play a crucial role but remain unseen and uncredited.

Having emerged from the ruins, Sensational hovered in the epicenter of the armored perimeter. The tanks were extremely well camouflaged, only one or two were obvious to the naked eye. But she knew they were there. She could hear their fusion engines, growling idly to themselves, like lions in tall grass. She could hear the excited chatter of the men inside them, confirming that they had a visual on her. All around her, she could hear the slow, mechanical creak of their massive 155mm precision rail cannons—at least seventy of them from the sound of it, probably more—rising in concert, acquiring her as their target, making minute compensations for her being airborne. Sensational had a flickering flashback of The Gate and their formidable machinery. The last time she'd witnessed such a display of raw military might had been during the blockade on Southern Cross.

These men didn't know how lucky they were. This wouldn't be anything at all like that. This would be over quickly and painlessly. So long as the woman hiding in the clouds was true to her word. She touched the tiny radio nestled in her ear. 'Any second now.'

'Change of plan,' she heard Rave say. 'You're going to eat a volley.'

Sensational felt her chest collapse somewhere into her stomach region. She found himself looking skyward, as though he could find Rave's hiding spot through the haze of low-level cumulus above them. 'What?'

'We're going to let them get off a shot,' she said. She didn't like the edge of excitement in her accent. 'Don't worry. Just stay there till I tell you to go. And whatever you do...don't flinch.'

Part of Sensational's upbringing involved detailed knowledge of the military vehicles and their weapons systems. Their tanks had been armed with 105mm rifled cannons, the equivalent of sniper rifles with an effective range of four miles. Out on the firing range, she'd witnessed what those cannons could do to a target made of hardened steel. Sensational was not made of hardened steel. Her skin was impenetrable, but concussion affected her like anyone else—well, not quite as severely, perhaps, but that didn't mean eating a missile was her idea of a good time. The Roman tanks were not using 105mm rifled cannons. They were using railguns, with a velocity that outmatched anything she'd seen American military weapons put out. She had no idea what the explosive yield was on a 155mm round, but she was in no hurry to find out by having one hit her in the neck. This, and her woman was telling her not to flinch.

Below, the Typhoon tanks finished their adjustments.

'Just stay still,' Rave reminded her.

They cycled up their weapons.

'I've got you,' Rave reassured her.

They fired.

Sensational never saw the massive projectile hurtled through the air towards her, and she didn't hear them until long after they would have hit. The velocity of the rounds was unlike anything she'd ever witnessed. She didn't think she would have been able to dodge them, even if she'd known they were coming. They didn't make the traditional shearing sound as they cut the sky. They screamed towards her, making an otherworldly sound that she would remember for some time afterward. She could only imagine the psychological impact (ie: pants-crapping terror) such weapons would have had against an enemy military.

But, it was not an enemy military the Romans were up against.

Each soldier had been trained in the takedown of enemy mutant personnel. Their officers were of the highest quality tacticians. Their weapons systems were state of the art. Their aim was dead-on. The rounds should have smashed into Sensational with enough destructive force to level a few city blocks, knocking her out of the sky. Unfortunately, all these factors meant precisely dick against a woman who could control gravity. Especially when they had no idea she was there.

The heavy, explosive-laden rounds bent around Sensational, harmlessly scattering hither and yon into the sky. The opening second of the war passed into history.

'Now,' Sensational's radio hissed.

The railguns had a reloading time of about three seconds. It took about that much time for Sensational to vanish from the spot she'd been hovering in and decimate the first of the Typhoons, plowing through it bodily, destroying its weapons systems and rendering it impotent. At the end of the third second, she was already laying into its neighbor, ripping the railgun from its moorings. The tank's crew lay exposed before her, their astonishment hidden behind their faceless helmets. Yanking them from their stations, they were sent flying over her shoulder. Her fingers tore into the tank's hardened armor as she pressed it overhead, and with a mighty heave, hurled it like a dart into the next Typhoon in the perimeter. It collided with a horrific clang and a screech of armor grinding upon itself. The impact sent both tanks rolling over their sides down the hill in a tangled heap of twisted metal.

By now, five seconds had passed, and the railguns had reloaded. But each and every gunner discovered a curious thing as they tried to line Sensational up in their sights: they couldn't. In fact, their guns seemed to have already decided on their new targets, and no amount of fiddling, mashing, or slamming on the controls changed their minds. Nor did the drivers seem to have any control; the tanks stayed where they were as though gripped by the Earth. But their targeting telemetry remained online, and though unresponsive, was more than willing to let them know of their new targets: each other.

Sensational noticed it, too, when she landed atop the next tank in the line. Its turret, along with all the others, was ambling to the left, facing its neighbor. The tank crews might not have known what was going on, but Sensational knew in an instant.

His fingers flew to his radio. 'Dammit, Rave, no deaths!'

'I'm giving them the chance to bail,' came her terse reply. 'If they're stupid enough to sit there—'

Her words were drowned out by a sudden hail of withering machine-gun fire from above. The attack choppers had flown into position around her—Sensational had scant noticed them until now, in spite of her enhanced hearing—and had opened fire. The bullets from their Vulcan machine guns ricocheted loudly off the armor she stood astride and shredded her jacket into ribbons, but didn't faze her one iota. In fact, it served no other purpose other than alerting her to their presence. They were now seven seconds in.

A leap took her to the first of the choppers. She flew into the path of the whirling rotor keeping it aloft; it shattered against her shoulder and slowed enough for her to separate it from the body in a shower of sparks. It didn't plummet from the sky. She made sure of it. She saw to it that it landed safely on the ground. Then she broke off one of the rotor's blades and hurled it at another chopper like a spear. The makeshift missile neatly pierced its aft section and lodged there. It spiraled out of control. She caught the chassis before it fell, carrying it with her on his way to the next helicopter. The sickle-shaped remnant in her hand sliced the machine in two. Both wreckages, she swiftly deposited into the soil. Eleven seconds.

'They're starting to scatter. I'm gonna start firing in five,' Rave advised him over the radio.

Gaining altitude, she glanced around, taking stock of the battlefield. She saw gray-suited soldiers on the field. Some were taking potshots at her, firing blue beams from hand-held weapons. But the general wave of movement was an ever-widening circle in the direction opposite the ruins. She took aim at a cross-section of the company, preparing to use her sonic blast on them.

'Four.'

Some random rifleman in the midst of them all scored a headshot on her from below. It came from her right. She turned and slammed her hands together in their direction instead. The wave ripped through the air, a rippling distortion, shredding through the field and laying soldier and armor alike at nines.

'Three.'

Another chopper opened fire on her. She flew into the stream of rounds, into the pilot's face, and yanked him through the glass. Swooping low, Sensational dropped the man into the midst of his fellows. The pilot-less chopper hovered in the air listlessly, its cockpit smashed.

'Two.'

As Sensational rose into the air once more, she noticed smoke from the corner of her eye. Turning her attention to it, she saw that it was the wreckage of one of the Typhoons she'd destroyed—the one that she'd sent skittering down the hill. Apparently, one of the dragoons was unable to make it out; his legs were trapped beneath the tank's massive bulk. Two of his fellows were attempting to pull him free, to no avail. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that the next tank in the line up the hill had its turret zeroed on them.

'Wait!' he shouted into his radio.

For an inexplicably chilly moment, Sensational thought that Rave wouldn't wait. No, she didn't think. She knew the other woman wouldn't. In that split-second, she even saw the scenario play out in her mind. She would respond to her plea with 'Nope!' and let the Typhoons' rail guns loose. There would be a hellish chain of massive explosions, piled on top of each other, and she'd watch helplessly as those three men down there vanished in a fireball. So certain was she that this was how things would play out, that Rave's response actually startled her.

'What is it?' She sounded irritated, but she held off.

'There's men down there. One of them is trapped.'

Her sigh was one of exasperation. 'Well then, hurry up.'

By that time, she'd already landed at the side of the soldiers. Predictably, they drew weapons on her, screaming at her in thick accents she barely understood. Sensational chose not to waste time by acknowledging them. She strode up to the man trapped under the tank. His helmet had been shattered; Sensational could see that his face was bloodied. Their eyes met. Oddly, there was no fear in the man's eyes. More acceptance, than anything.

Sensational lifted the tank up gingerly with her foot. The man still didn't crawl out. It didn't take long for Sensational to figure out why; the man's legs looked like the rough equivalent of spaghetti noodles. They'd been crushed. Sensational grimaced. She hadn't intended for that to happen.

Despite his fellow's reluctance to do anything but brandish his useless weapon in Sensational's face, at least one of the soldiers was on his game. He quickly dragged their comrade free from the wreckage, and slung him over his shoulders. Without a curse or a word of thanks, he hurried away from Sensational, clambering up the hill to join his fellows. His friend with the carbine slowly backed away before turning tail and doing the same.

Once they were clear, Sensational took to the sky, twenty-two seconds since the first shots had been fired. 'Alright,' he said into his radio. 'Do it.'

It was just as she'd envisioned, in that brief moment of panic. Some seventy-odd railguns expelled their swift payload into some seventy-odd engines at the exact same moment. The sound of the blast carried as far as Athens. The sky above Philippi remained lit long after night fell as the armored carcasses burned. And twenty-three seconds after the first shot had been fired, the 88th Dragoons had been routed, forced to retreat back into the hills.

Sensational performed several circuits over the battlefield, looking for any dead or wounded soldiers. She found none. Which meant that despite the many injuries, and perhaps save the soldier who would lose his legs, the Dragoons had successfully retreated from the area by their own cognizance.

There had been no deaths.

She kept checking to make sure, zipping through the wreckages at hypersonic speeds, unable to make herself believe. With the assistance of one of the most murderous criminals on the planet, she'd scored the first major victory against Rome. When she'd have time to think back, she'd understand that there was really no other way things could have gone, not with the pieces laid out on the board the way they were. But for now, she just couldn't bring herself to reach out and accept the victory set before her.

'They're gone, Sensational,' Rave assured him, after her fourth or fifth go-round. 'But they won't be gone for long. Let's finish what we started and get the hell out of here.'

'Right.' Her answer came in the form of a hoarse, breathless whisper. She slowed to a stop, leaning on one of the scorched stones of the ruins. She'd have to regain her composure before appearing before the Emperors.

The air was a fetid, smoky amalgamation of smells. The heavy, insistent musk of cordite. The noisome tang of burning steel. The earthy scent of singed vegetation. And the ruins themselves, they stank of history. Sensational breathed it in deeply. It smelled of win.

'Right,' she said again, meaning it this time. She found the old temple and went to meet the soon to be former Emperors.