55) --- Symphony Of Destruction --------------------------------------- "Force, if unassisted by judgment, collapses through its own mass." -- Horace It was a warm spring day at the University of Maryland, College Park. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, the grass was glistening, and the students were eagerly going to their final exams (Ok, so maybe they weren't -that- eager. But at least school was ending soon). Those who didn't have exams that day but had them the next week were finishing up their final projects and studying, although others were cursing to themselves that they wished they hadn't put off their final projects -that- late due to their procrastinating natures. Other students who -had- finished their exams were cleaning up their dorm rooms and moving out for the summer. Some waited for parents to pick them up, while others drove home themselves. All in all, it was a rather peaceful day on campus. At least, until the five 'fighter jets' flew over the campus at sub-mach speeds at an altitude about half what was recommended for flying over a residential area, and then quickly departed southward. At Andrews Air Force Base, south of the University of Maryland and east of the District of Columbia, the watch officer blinked as first one, then three, then five unfamiliar radar paints appeared on long- range. "What the hell?" he muttered to himself as he began to attempt to get a signature from them. No go. And they were approaching fast. "Commander, we have a problem," the watch officer said as he waved the base's CO over to his display. "What is it, lieutenant?" he asked as he looked at the radar screen, but his questions were immediately answered by what he saw. Five blips were moving fast towards the center of the display, and none of them were tagged by transponder codes he could recognize, friendly or non. "Damn... have Apple Flight scramble to intercept that group, and alert the president that we have a situation." Sirens went off as Andrews Air Force Base went to alert status. "Velcro two to Velcro one! We've got American fighters headed our way!" exclaimed one of Ray's melmacian pilots to General Petty as Velcro Flight flew towards AAFB, skirting the borders of DC. "I can -see- that, corporal!" Petty replied as he set his Purple Trident Command Cruiser to attack readiness. He flipped on the all-squadron band, and yelled, "ALL PLANES, **ATTACK!**". His melmacian pilots rushed to obey. Trevor watched the skies from the open hangar door, lost in thought. A few minutes before, the sounds of jet fighters had captured his attention, and he'd left where he was waiting inside to see what was going on. All that was visible in the clear-blue skies were the remains of five contrails. However, the sound of aerial combat was faint in the distance, so he -knew- that the balance had changed. FOWL had made its move, and the US had responded. Trevor thought, Among almost all of the Corps' members, only Philip (and Aeri, he guessed) had more experience at aerial combat. But both of them were missing, and everyone else was underground who knows where. And until the Legios was finished, all he could do... was wait. Mind you, this doesn't mean Trevor was happy about this. "What's wrong, Trev?" Galen asked as he walked over to join Trevor by the hangar door. "Eh... I just feel left out, that's I'll. I should be up there in the thick of it, not benchwarming down here!" "Then why aren't you? Why don't you use the Suburban?" Galen asked. "It's combat-capable, and you've flown it before..." Trevor snorted. "Yeah, -right-. Three Sidewinders, two miniguns, and two heavy lasers --" "-- And a GM frame with steel sides, bucket seats, tape deck, and stereo --" Galen interjected. "-- You call that 'combat-capable'?" "Well, it's better than Phil's Citation." "There is that," Trevor smiled, and then sighed again. "But, I'm having my doubts about flying it again... I mean, we got shot down over Worcester --" "From what I heard, you had your wheels ripped off by a lizard." "Whatever. And I don't think the Suburban's tough enough or has enough ordinance to handle extended aerial combat. And besides, the Legios is just so much more way -cooler- than the Suburban!" Trevor grinned. Galen looked at Trevor dubiously. "Well, yeah... but are you -sure- you know what you're doing? The Alpha alone has over forty controls --" "Hey, we've been running the simulations the past few days, right? It's better than what I had with the Suburban, and I did ok with that..." Galen looked dubiously at Trevor once again, tried to reconcile his two previous statements about his air-combat capacity, and then shrugged, postponing it for a later time. "Suit yourself," he said, as he went back inside to see how Rufus and Lugnutz were doing. Trevor wasn't the only one who wasn't happy at the current turn of events. Commander Peter Johnson, of the US Air Force, had been having a good day, at least until his squadron had been scrambled. Apparently, -SOMEHOW- some hostile fighters had appeared out of nowhere in American airspace, and were now on an flight plan that would take them to AAFB. His squadron had been scrambled in order to intercept them before they reached the base, ask them who they were and why they there were here, and then force them down at AAFB for serious questioning. Unfortunately, it wasn't working out to be so easy, for the oddly shaped 'fighters' (they flew, and had weapons, but that was about all that could classify them as such) had begun to attack as soon as they'd come into visual range. And now his F-16 squadron was engaged in serious aerial combat over District Heights. The two wings dueled and fought, and Ray's forces were taking the brunt of the damage. "I'm hitAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUGH!" screamed an unfamiliar (yet Melmacian) voice over Apple One's speakers as another ungainly fighter was blown apart by an American Sidewinder. The remains of the alien fighter plummeted to the ground, just what the newly-developing suburb needed. "Dammit, what is -WITH- these guys? Fox One! Fox One!" asked Cmdr. Johnson's wingman as he sighted on an alien fighter, its wings flapping furiously, and then fired his 20-mm M61A1 Vulcan cannon and turned its violet fuselage into swiss cheese. The fighter's wings began to falter, and then it too began to descend uncontrolled. "I have no -idea- what they're trying to pull, Demon -- Fox Two!" Johnson replied as he locked onto yet another enemy fighter. Out of the five original ones, only three were left. Two smaller, violet, flapping-wing 'jets' and one larger, darker-purple craft that were violating all the known rules of aerodynamics remained. "Fox Two!" No, correction. Make that no more violet 'jets'; Lieut. Alex "Fabio" Fabiano had just blown one that had been dogging his wingman for some time out of the sky, while Cmdr. Johnson's other sidewinder took out the remaining one. Which only left the big purple 'jet'. "Unidentified Fighter!" Cmdr. Johnson announced once again at the unmarked alien ship. "You are violating American airspace, and have fired on members of the US Armed Forces. Land your fighter immediately, or we will force you down!" The purple jet paused as if to consider, and then accelerated away before turning in a wide arc and then charging at the US fighters. "Shit! He's trying to ram us!" yelled Demon as the alien fighter loomed. "Apple Flight, break!" commanded Johnson, and his squadron obeyed, their planes going in every direction except the one the purple jet had come from. As soon as it had streaked past, the five american fighters pulled around and converged on its tail. The alien fighter seemed to make no effort to evade their fire, and was blown out of the sky. After his squadron had gotten back into formation, Cmdr. Johnson radioed AAFB. "Apple Flight to Andrews: Five hostile contacts encountered, Five contacts downed. No survivors, no surrenders. You want us to come back?" "Negative, Apple Flight-- we've got a bearing on where the hostiles came from. Base Commander wants you guys to check it out before you come back." "Roger that, Andrews," replied Cmdr. Johnson, and he ordered his squad northwest. "Sir!" the REO in Ray's base exclaimed, "Velcro flight has been eliminated! The American forces are headed our way!" Ray smiled. "Just as I expected. Petty never was one to learn from his mistakes. Never try to attack a foe that's more maneuverable than you. The fool." "But sir! The enemy jets will be here any minute!" "I know," Ray said calmly. He then tabbed a control on the armrest of his command chair. "Engineering-- How many minutes until launch?" A tinny voice replied: "We're tracing a power surge in one of the lifter quads-- I estimate 37 minutes until we're ready to launch." "Make it 30 minutes." A gulp could be heard from the tinny voice, and then it replied: "Yessir!" Ray cut the connection, and then looked over at Korzon, who blanched. Ray said nothing, and then turned his attention towards the comm officer. "Seeing as Korzon's famed 'Terror Mechanoid for Neutralization and Takeover' has failed to perform on -time-, we might as well give our forces something to do. Order the rest of our squadrons to launch immediately, and have the ground troops deploy to occupy the campus and the surrounding areas." "Aye, Sir!" Back at Andrews Air Force Base, the control tower and airfield was controlled chaos. Five minutes ago, the tower lost all contact with Apple Flight, after they had been ordered to investigate the source of the unknown aircraft. Improbably enough, calculations pinpointed the hostiles appearance to be somewhere in northern Maryland, about two miles from DC; if so, this was a -serious- breach of US air security. And with the appearance of -more- hostiles, Andrews was hot scrambling flights to take care of the unknown threat. As his F-15's canopy closed, Captain Thorpe talked with his air controller, who was giving him the current flight orders. "Striker, your wing has been classified as Dragon; IFF for flights are designates 'Wyvern', 'Slayer' and 'Wizard'," his helmet's headset squawked as he checked his seat's harness and his jet's controls. "Roger that," Cpt. Thorpe replied, as he went through his takeoff checklist. "What nationality are the bogies squawking?" he asked. His question was answered by silence from the control tower. "..." "Control?" "We have them tagged as Other at the moment," the tower reluctantly admitted. Thorpe blinked. "Roger that. Request Tactical Level," he continued, ignoring the lack of enemy classification for the moment. "Tactical Level is Blue, repeat Blue, Fire defensively or with visual confirmation only," the air controller replied. "Control, we're screwed with those orders," Thorpe stated. "Affirmative, but they come from the top," the tower replied in sympathy. "Good luck and Godspeed." Cpt. Thorpe's flight took for the skies. About 20 minutes after the three Raptor sisters had left on their mission, they returned (which was at about the same time Ray ordered his overwhelming air and land assault), each one laden down with equipment, harnesses, and weapons of varying sizes. They carried their stolen goods on their backs and in their arms, and dropped them at Aeri and Philip's feet in a heap. "There ya go," Winnie announced as her two sisters sorted their bounty. Philip and Aerianne moved from their positions against the door and kneeled down to look as well. There were several web combat harnesses, each one holding various grenades, clips, and tools; some small automatic pistols with holsters (two were attached to the harnesses); and some larger rifles, each one coming with a bandolier of clips. There was also a large-bore gun that looked almost like a bazooka, except for the fact that one, it had a large clip at the butt end; and two, its barrel was longer than Philip was tall. Philip looked at it for several seconds, wondering -why- the raptors had brought it back, when he saw a clawed hand reach down and pick it up by a carrying strap (one of many). Winnie smiled down on him as he looked up. "-Just- in case we come up against something BIG," she said as she began to attach the monstrous rifle to her person, and slung it on her back. "Ah," Philip replied, and then shook his head as he began to pick out equipment for himself. The other raptors (and Aeri) had already begun to do the same, although Emmy was focussing more on a purloined laptop that she had "borrowed" from Rufus' array of computers. A cellular modem would provide a linkup to the array's computational power, although with the metal walls surrounding them, it would be more likely that she'd end up using the sets of patch cables she'd brought along for that purpose as well. As Philip was checking the last few buckles on his purloined harness, he noticed Winnie, who was coughing something fierce. Concerned, he walked over to her. "Winnie, you ok?" he asked as the Velociraptor continue to hack and wheeze. *Hack!* "Just-" *Cough!* "Holdon-" *wheeze!* "A second!" *HRACK!* With a mighty clearing of the throat, the Raptor lifted her head and then leveled it quickly, spitting out something that arced across the corridor, hit the far wall with a wet *spltch*, and then fell to the ground. Philip looked at what had come out, and then quickly soon after wished he hadn't. *hack* "Damn hairballs... that's what I get for eating fast," Winnie said, clearing her throat to make sure it was functioning again, before joining her sisters. Philip took this in, shuddered, and then rejoined the group as well. "Well, are we ready?" Aerianne asked calmly. The others nodded assent. Winnie cheered. Emmy didn't respond, since she was still snout-deep in her laptop. "Then, let's get to it," Philip said as they got into formation and made their way down the corridor. 56) --- Trenchcoat Warfare -------------------------------------------- "Highlander Trenchcoat: A literary/visual device used to explain away highly incongruous appearances... named for the trenchcoats in the Highlander movies/series that supposedly contained a three foot sword, yet didn't inhibit movement, set off detectors, nor expose the hilt to air." -- from "Mechaman's odd and varying Fiction Definitions" While Philip and company were beginning to work their way out of Ray's underground base, Gordo and company had been trying to work their way -to- Ray's underground base. Admittedly, finding their way to where FOWL had kidnapped their comrades was a little bit easier than what their friends had to go through due to the fact that they had a large, dark, and wide tunnel to follow to their destination. All they had to do was follow it to its end, and they'd be reunited. Unfortunately, no-one had told them how -boring- following an underground tunnel could be. Black Betty and the Magnet Van trundled apace of the students who had (for some odd reason) decided to -walk- the several kilometer length of the tunnel. The others either rode in the two vehicles, or drove alongside with their Cyclones in bike mode. The twin headlights of the two larger modes of transportation shone in the darkness and flooded the floor in front of them with light. The smaller headlights of the Cyclones also pierced the gloom, and moved every which way as their riders moved them about. They had driving for 20 minutes now. "Are we there yet?" Steve Albain's voice asked over the comm. "No." replied Gordo, who had been going over tactical plans in his head. "Are we there yet?" Steve asked again. "No." Gordo replied again. "Are we there yet?" Again. "No." Again. "Are we there yet?" Again. "NO!" Gordo barked, beginning to lose some of his considerable patience. "Fine... just asking, yeesh..." Steve shut up, and the group travelled on in relative silence for about ten more minutes until the tunnel widened, and then stopped all together. "Alright, everybody out!" exclaimed Gordo as he got out of the still-moving Magnet Van, and began walking towards the large metal wall that marked the end of their journey. "What, no blood, no gore, no smashing of bones? What a gyp! This trip has been a -total- waste of time!" proclaimed Brian St. George (aka. Byron) as the the group came to a halt. Rebecca shot him a glance, but it was unnoticed. The rest of the group disembarked or parked as the van and station wagon parked so that their headlights shone on the large dark green wall, the light reflecting off of the many alloy plates that made up the wall. "We have apparently come to 'the end of the road', so to speak," Gordo announced to those gathered around him. Cyclone headlights on power-armored individuals looked like flashlight beams against the humungous door. "Seeing as the tunnel ends here, and there were no splits along the way to other passages, then it is a reasonable conclusion that we've found the location where Philip, Aerianne, and the Raptor Sisters were taken." "Huh?" asked Jim. "He means we found where Phil and Aeri were kidnapped," Horse explained to his redneck friend. "Ah." Gordo cleared his throat to regain everyone's attention. "-Anyway-, in order to proceed further, we must first somehow determine a means of entrance--" "You mean like the gigantic door behind you?" Matias Duarte pointed out. Gordo blinked, and then turned to look behind him. In the middle of the dark green wall was a large door, one edge flush with the bottom of the tunnel. The door was tall, heavy, and looked as if a 747 could have passed through it with plenty of clearance. Next to it, dwarfed by its cousin, was a more human-sized door. "*Ahem*. Yes, exactly," he conceded. He then began to approach the smaller door, scanning as he did so. "Now what are you doing?" asked Wyndi, curiously, as the rest of the Corps settled down to wait. "Attempting to determine if there is a means of opening either of these doors from the outside-- Ah! Here is what I have searched for!" he said as he approached a group of plugs, interface ports, and other controls, presumably for operating the doors. A couple of them looked like medium sized holes, and all were unlabeled. "And since said means exist, I can now use my armor to open the door." He lifted his right hand, and with a *SHICK!*, the foot-long interface spike extended from his gauntlet, the sound echoing down the tunnel. He stuck it into the closest available port. "YERRARAUUUUUUUUUUGHGHHGHHGHHH!!!" Gordo screamed, startling the Corps, as his armor suddenly was flooded with over 100000 volts of electricity, tripping almost all his circuit breakers at once. His armored form, still sizzling, collapsed to the ground as the students rushed over to see what had happened. "Jesus!" "What the--?!" "Gordo, are you ok?" asked Rebecca as she kneeled by the prone centurion. Gordo coughed several times before answering. "*Cough, Cough* -mostly-," he groaned as he tried to get up, and failed. "What the hell happened?" JD asked, as he looked at the control port which Gordo had tried to use. "Mistook an external power port for a computer interface," Gordo admitted, which brought up several groans from those assembled. "Great going, Artoo," Marlo Goldberg said as she tapped Gordo's helmet. After Gordo's armor had been reset, and his friends had helped him to a fully upright position, he once again tried to use his interface spike, -this- time placing it in the right hole. It set home with a *click*, and he began to interface with the local computers, determining the best way to open either of the doors. The Corps stood around, waiting for something to happen. "Man, there'd better be some action -soon-, or I don't know -what- I'm gonna do!" muttered Byron to himself over in the Blairite contingent. Several of the Blairites muttered to themselves as well, but more to the point of what they were going to do to Byron if he didn't calm down. The rest of the Corpsmembers chatted, figuring out -why- they'd joined up in the first place, or what they'd do later on once this was all over. Their ruminations were suddenly cut off as a large grinding sound echoed through the tunnel. They stopped talking and turned to watch the large door slide ponderously upwards into the wall. "Way to go, Gordo!" exclaimed Liam as the Corps began to approach the Steel-armored student, who was grinning broadly. "I thank you for your congratulations, Liam!" Gordo exclaimed as well. "Now that we have secured our means of entrance, I propose we--" Gordo's words were cut off by the silence that followed the door's final retraction, revealing what was behind it. A large hangar bay, currently empty, except for the 20 or so Sable Commandoes who had been milling around, doing checks on their equipment. It took a second for both groups to realize what had just happened, but the Sables reacted first, drawing their weapons and charging towards the entrance. "Get our asses kicked?" Alex Cooper finished for Gordo as most of the Corps ran for cover. "All right, FINALLY!" Byron yelled as he launched himself into the fray, his TC-supplied M-16 firing wildly. The Horsemen joined him soon after, and the air was soon filled with the cries of FOWL troopers as the group sowed chaos in their wake. Rebecca looked at the charging form of Brian with disapproval in her eyes. "Byron, you're a -loon-," she muttered to herself as she shook her head. "No help for it, I guess," Wyndi sighed resignedly as she armed her Cyclone's weapons. The others behind her did the same, and together, they charged into the fray. Going by the numbers, the Sixty-plus members of the Terrapin Corps were able to easily overwhelm the twenty Sable Commandoes. Once the survivors had been knocked out, gussied up, and their weapons confiscated, Gordo looked over the hangar bay with satisfaction. "Excellent!" he proclaimed to those members of the Corps who were still standing. Two had taken some injuries, and Mrs. Wiz and Marlo were looking over them now. "We have managed to succeed in our first combat operation! You are all to be congratulated!" He smiled. "Um, Gordo?" Liam piped up, "If you guys haven't noticed yet, this isn't -paintball- we're playing! This is -REAL-!" The weight of Liam's statement settled over the crowd, and even quelled Gordo's usual enthusiasm. "Good point," Gordo admitted, thinking to himself for a bit. "There are sure to be more FOWL troopers in this base, many more than we could ever handle. Therefore I propose that we take up a guerilla action against FOWL as we work our way to wherever our comrades might be. Mrs. Wiz, Marlo, Mr. Yee- I want you three to stay within this area to keep it secure, and to serve as a base of operations. Ben, Jeff, and Kevin, stay here as well to provide protection. The rest of us shall try to keep in radio contact as we go along. Understood?" Those people who had been selected nodded their affirmation, and the rest of the Corps got ready. "Alright.. Let's Go!" Gordo led the armed Corpsmembers out of the hangar bay. Meanwhile, back in FOWL's command center, Ray continued to watch over his situation reports with a calm indifference. Apparently, the upstart "Terrapin Corps" had managed to show some tactical knowledge after all. Given that their leaders had been kidnapped, they had deduced who had kidnapped them, determined the means of apprehension, and then followed that trail back to their base. And now they had apparently managed to overrun a hangar-bay flight crew, and were now working their way inside, to try to find their comrades. Although the fact that they had managed to make it -that- far was surprising, Ray wasn't concerned. His base was -huge-; the chances of the Corps finding their friends, or even any important sections of his base, within any time to effect his plans. And also, his base was filled with thousands of his loyal troops; the Corps would most likely be eliminated by attrition through combat injuries if nothing else. Now, the Air Force jets and the National Guard -were- something to be partially worried about. Their pilots had managed to take out some of his best air-jocks, and the National Guard was keeping most of the ground action confined to the campus and the surrounding suburbs. If the US Army or other armed forces were called in (in fact, they were; telemetry indicated it was happening as he watched), the entire land battle could end up turning against FOWL's favor. Ray had no intention of letting that happen. "Sir?" "Yes, Technician?" "Engineering reports that all is in readiness, sir." "Good... -very- good. Comm officer, sound general quarters, recall the pilots and the ground troops, and have all operatives report to their posts. Prepare for launch." "Aye, Sir!" The techs hurried to obey. Charley, Aeri, Emmy, Philip, and Winnie continued to sneak their way through what was obviously (to them) a gigantic underground base in the hopes of finding their way out. "Ok, so where to next, Emmy?" Philip asked as Charley poked her head around the corner. The Raptor clicked a few keys, and then replied, "Well, once we turn right here, we can go about 200 meters to the next intersection, turn left, and then reach an elevator further down the corridor. It -should- be able to take us to another deck where there's outside access..." "Gotcha," Philip nodded, figuring distances in his mind. Already he and the rest of his little commando squad had walked -quite- a distance in trying to find their way out, but there was no help for it. "Well, as long as there's no interference, we should make it, right?" The rest nodded, although Aeri looked pensive. "Philip?" Aerianne asked as Philip followed Charley as they kept to the walls as they walked down the dimly lit corridor. "Yeah, Aeri?" Philip replied as they moved. "Don't you think it's strange?" "What?" Philip paused, perplexed. "We've encountered almost NO resistance." The group slowed, as Aeri continued to speak. "Except for whatever Emmy, Winnie, and Charley encountered when they got our equipment, and the few patrols we've managed to subdue along the way, there's been -nothing-. Nada. Zero. Zip. For pete's sake, are we really -that- unimportant to them?" Philip paused as he thought. "Then why kidnap us in the first place? They knew where we lived and how to get at us without -any- trouble..." Aerianne was about to reply when a voice from an unseen intercom cut him off. "Attention all crew members: report to Battle Stations. I repeat, report to Battle Stations. The Grand Arising is GO. I repeat, The Grand Arising is GO." "'Grand Arising'?" asked Winnie. "What the hell's -that-?" "I have -no- clue..." replied Aerianne, but then drew quiet as red- alert sirens began to wail as the lights flashed. The deckplates began to vibrate softly, then stronger, causing those in the hallway to reach for the walls in order to steady themselves. "...but I have a feeling we're going to find out -real- soon," Philip finished for her. 57) --- Mean Green Mutha From Outer Space ----------------------------- "That's not a moon. It's a space station." -- Obi-wan Kenobi Out on the surface, on the UMCP campus, Ray's troops had spread out, tanks rolling over the landscape, blocking traffic and tearing up roads (foreshadowing many headaches for the PG County Department of Roads) as the Sable Commandos took up supporting positions. They hadn't expected much-- maybe some campus police officers, some state troopers; in fact, they had been hoping for them, so that FOWL could show the locals that they were truly outclassed. And by the time the local authorities would have called for national backup, FOWL would have firmly entrenched themselves in College Park, and would be able to repel anything thrown against them as they marched towards DC. In fact, this was the situation right now. A local state of emergency had been declared, and the National Guard and the US Army had reacted with unprecedented swiftness, cordoning off the city to try and cut off this invasion while trying to get as many civilians out as possible. Unfortunately, seeing as about half the campus population was still in their homes or in their dorms, this was making that task difficult, since they were essentially in occupied territory. The fact that the enemy had some rather... odd battle equipment was also complicating the situation. The russian-built tanks and weaponry, the US forces could deal with. The power armor that looked like it had stepped off of a Man-Kzin wars book, and the gigantic humanoid -robots- (well, mostly humanoid-- they had tails, ears, and snouts) that were also stomping around were making it a challenge just to keep them in -place-, let alone push them back. But somehow, they did keep them in place. For although the unknown enemy had a technological edge, the US forces knew the lay of the land, and were fighting for their country. Even so, it looked like this battle would take a -very- long time to play out, by which time the campus would be a shambles, no matter who 'won'. Unless the enemy retreated immediately. Which was what they were doing right now. "Bhozei Moi!!" a sable commando exclaimed from within the cockpit of his SableMEK, finishing his epeteth with a few choice words in his native russian tounge. "They -ken't- be serrious, Keptin!" "Orders are orders!" his CO replied over the FOWL tacnet. "Our kommander wants us back inside -NOW-. SO MOVE YOUR FURRY ESS, COMRADE!!" "AYE, KEPTIN!" the commando pilot replied as he turned his mecha back the way it had come, though first pausing to launch a few more missiles and autocannon rounds as a 'parting gift' for the US forces. "They're -what-??" exclaimed Col. O'Leary into his field communicator as he monitored the battle and directed troops from the field command post that had been set up in the parking lot of the College Park People's Drug. "They're -retreating- sir!" one of his field commanders replied from the 'front lines' where there was still some action going on. But now the action was moving, the enemy retreating back up the campus towards where they had originated, and the US forces slowly following them at a safe distance. "Aside from a few potshots, the enemy's all of a sudden decided to retreat and -ignore- us!" There was silence for a few seconds over the commline as the Colonel reviewed his options, before his subordinate asked him. "Should we pursue, sir?" O'Leary thought for a few seconds longer, then replied. "Damn straight we'll pursue them! Porter, take your squad and the rest of the force, and find out where they came from! But keep a safe distance, they could be leading us into a trap!" "Understood, sir!" Porter replied, before cutting the connection and ordering his troops to move out and pursue. The US troops pursued the enemy forces up Stadium and Campus Drive, towards University Boulevard, and over the UMCP Golf Course and along Adelphi Road, until they reached the place where their foes were now retreating into. In fact, a -lot- of them were retreating into-- "Archives Two?" Porter asked, disbelievingly, as he watched the various tanks, armors, and Mecha retreat into the National Archives Annex's parking garage with no regard for the fact that there should be no way that much military machinery could -possibly- fit inside a commercial parking garage. Capt. Porter was momentarily reminded of the old circus schtick of stuffing 20 clowns into a VW Bug, and then cleared his head as he watched the last of the enemy troopers retreat into the building's garage. "Sir, they've retreated into the Archives annex, and have seemingly dissapeared. We believe that its security has been compromised, and can no longer be considered US owned," Porter reported back to O'Leary. "We're now cordoning off the building from the surrounding area, awaiting further instructions." "Good work, Captain." O'Leary replied. "Remain there, and keep an eye out for suspicious activity. We'll be sending backup shortly. Over and out." "Aye, sir!" Porter replied as he cut the connection. And then, his troops waited, their weapons at standby, as they watched the large modern marble and green-glass building that the US government had built to house the overflowing documents the government usually stored in the National Archives downtown. Then they watched the entirety of Archives Two begin to -sink-. The US troops watched, dumbfounded, as the building didn't crumble, or explode, or shake itself to bits; but instead sank steadily into the ground accompanied by the sound of -very- heavy machinery pulling the building and its accompanying parking garage into the ground. Several power and phone lines stretched and then snapped as the building continued to lower. Before long, it had vanished from sight entirely. It was quiet (too quiet). The wind blew across the campus and through the trees that had surrounded the now-vanished government building. They surrounded two large rectangular holes in the ground, and several ground troopers, lead by Capt. Porter, moved close to the edges of them to see where they led. They were holes all right. Very -deep- ones. Metal-lined, too. In fact, if one looked closer, you could see large grooves on the sides of the metal walls, and what looked like lots of recently-displaced axle grease in them. But what really caught the soldiers' attention wasn't the sheer depth of the holes (they were so deep that their bottoms vanished into darkness), but were the slight mechanical sounds that those with audio-enhancing equipment could hear. But soon after, such enhancement became unnecessary, as the sound increased, echoing up the holes and out into the air. The sound of strange machinery powering up for some unknown purpose. "I don't like the sound of this, sir..." Lieut. Barth said apprehensively. "Yeah, I think you're right," Porter replied near where she was standing. "We'd better back off. -Now-." As he was saying this, nobody noticed the ground beginning to vibrate softly. Then a lot more, which was a lot more noticeable. "What THE HELL?!?!" Porter exclaimed, confused. "I'm reading 2.5 on the Richter, sir, and INCREASING!" a tech replied in response to Porter's cry. "But that's -impossible-! We're not even on a fault line!" Porter stated, even as the earth continued to shake in defiance of his words. "Tell that to IT!" Barth pointed, and everyone looked and gaped as one as they followed his pointing finger. In the distance, a crack was developing in the earth. Said crack began to expand, faulting upwards while also spreading back and forth in a relatively straight line. The fault line continued to grow, much like earthquakes do in the cartoons, with smaller faults spreading out tangentially from the large one, which now was the length of a freight train... and getting longer by the second. And the crack was approaching where the US troops now stood. "Back off, everyone! NOW!" Cpt. Porter roared over the commlines. No one needed to be told twice. <<>> The US Army and the National Guard hauled armor back to the campus as the ground continued to shake. But for the Air Force pilots, who were still flying over the area even though their quarry had gone to ground unexpectedly, the view was -far- different. They could see where the first few cracks had begun to fault upwards, and how the crack/crevasse/canyon had spread in all directions... from the center of College Park Woods to the hole where Archives II once stood to even the I-495/95 interchange from the Beltway to Baltimore. "Looks like Rush Hour's gonna be -long- tonight," a pilot wryly commented. His REO nodded, but didn't respond. The pilots continued to watch and circle from the air as the armed forces retreated back to the campus as the cracks continued to spread and fault upwards, forcing large mounds of rock, clay, soil and sand to rise into the air. From a distance, it looked as if a hill was forcing its way out of the ground. The 'hill' continued to rise, slowly upgrading itself to a much larger hill, and then something more akin to a mountain, although by then the top of the 'mountain' had already begun to level off, the topmost portions tumbling down the sides of the aberration. The 'mountain' surged up, its topsoil sloughing off as its incline became steeper and sections of earth broke away and rolled down the sides in an avalanche. By now the peak of the mountain had become clear, and those soldiers who were looking through their targeting sights to zoom in on images could see large metal spikes sticking through the soil. As they watched, the soil fell away, revealing more spikes, spars, and various metal pods on a large metal surface. More dirt fell away, and it soon became obvious that -something- was forcing it's way out of the ground. The metal surface expanded and grew as it continued to rise, forcing the earth and clay out of its way. Before long, over half the 'mountain' had fallen away as the metal structure beneath it pushed its way into the sunlight. It continued to rise, faster and faster, the ground falling away from a ledge that circumvented the structure about halfway down, and landing in the crater that had been created by its arising. Dirt fell away from four stubby upright protrusions that were attached to the outside edge of the structure, each one the height of the World Trade Center, but only half the thickness of the main body; and also from the long projection that stuck out from the front of the structure which was just as thick as the four other protrusions. The last of the dirt rolled off the ship (for that is what the structure was was; no other explanation could suffice), and the monstrosity was exposed to the sun for the first time in its existence. Light glinted off its dark-green duralloy hull, the large armor plates on the top contrasting with the smaller plates on the four vertical portions, and the almost smooth horizontal section at the front of the ship. It was a turtle. A Four-Kilometer Long Turtle. Meanwhile, back at the College Park airport, Trevor watched, mouth agape, as the distant horizon began to bulge, rise, and then fracture as the structure beneath the surface forced its way into the summer sunlight. "Guys, get *out* here, NOW!!" he yelled once his brain realized that what was happening was NOT a simulation or a dream, but the real deal. "What is it, Trev--Oh My God...." Rufus trailed off as he saw the giant turtle for the first time. Rufus was not a religious man (in fact, he had no -concept- of what religion was in the first place), but he had heard Philip (and then Aeri) use the phrase several times before when totally awestruck, and now seemed as good as time as any to use it. In fact, he decided to say it again a few more times for good measure, just to get the hang of it. "Oh my god... Oh My God... oh my God..." he repeated, trying different variations on a theme. "Hey, Rufus, what's got your shorts in a knot?" Lugnutz said as he joined them and then looked up. "Wow. Big Turtle," he commented appreciatively. "Yyyyeah, that's a -big- Turtle," Trevor replied in confirmation as Galen came out and joined the group. "Looks like -somebody's- read the book," Galen commented wryly. "'The Book?'" Rufus asked, confused, as he was interrupted from his reverie. He didn't recall reading anything in the UMD libraries about Giant Turtle Ships. But then again, UMCP had seven libraries with over a hundred thousand books in it's collection, so he might have missed that one. "Well, of -Course-! It's a chapter in _The Villian's Book of Tried and True Cliches_! Chapter Seven: The Ultimate Weapon!" he said sarcastically. "Though I can't see how a gigantic flying -Turtle- could be considered Cliche'.." Galen commented. "Ah," Rufus replied, nonplussed. "Hey, Philip, look at this!," Aeri exclaimed as she pointed towards a shiny portal set in one wall. The small commando group had encountered many such portals as they made their way through the base, but all of them had shutters behind them, cutting off whatever was beyond the portals. But now, the shutters were -opening-. "What the --" Philip attempted to exclaim as he watched the nearest shuttered portal open. Beyond the slightly shiny portal, which was now quite obviously a window, he could see the soil and rock falling past it as the base -- Philip realized, pulled away from the earth which had entombed it and struggled to break free. "Well, that explains why the base was shaking," Aeri commented as the last of the detritus fell away, and they watched what little of the surface they could see pull away. "Oookay... so we're not in a base, we're in a who-knows-how-big -Ship-," Winnie commented. "That still doesn't help us..." "Actually, it does!" Emmy replied, as her fingers tapped out commands on her portable computer. "Before, when we were underground, I didn't know if they had any radio equipment on the surface. But now, since we're in a ship, then it's probably got -lots-! If we can find a comm terminal, then I can hack into their outgoing transmissions, and -maybe- Philip can activate his LEGOs through them!" Philip and Aerianne looked at each other, and blinked. "That's... that's something I hadn't considered," Philip admitted. Aeri shrugged, and then turned towards the Raptor Hacker. "So, where's the nearest comm terminal?" Aeri asked. Emmy looked up, then back at the laptop's screen as she typed once again. "If we take this right turn about ninety feet thataway," she pointed down the corridor they were in, "and then go straight for fifty feet until we reach a door I'll have to hack through, and then..." Emmy continued to describe her plan as the rest of the group followed her down the corridor. Winnie held back for a little moment, unnoticed by the rest. "My sister, 'Little Miss Cyberpunk'," Winnie muttered to herself before she sighed, shouldered her weapon, and joined her friends. Captain Porter and the rest of the US militia continued to look upward, dumbfounded, as the gigantic metallic -turtle- hovered ominously over the campus and surrounding suburbs. It was HUGE, and it blocked out the sun (and most of the visible sky) as it held itself at station-keeping with only meters between its bottom and the tallest campus buildings. "What should we do, Colonel?" Porter asked over the comm once he had regained his wits. For a moment, O'Leary was speechless, then he replied. "There's nothing we can do at the moment... except try to *force* *it* *down*," he said regrettably. Porter sputtered, confused. "E-even if we lose the -campus-?" "Even so. You have your orders." Porter gulped, and nodded. Cutting the connection, he began to order the troops in the field to begin firing upwards to try and do SOME damage to the monstrosity. At the same time, in the air, some of the USAF pilots had the same idea. "Hey! What are you doing?" one pilot's REO officer exclaimed as he lined up a firing solution on the gigantic terrapin's dark green plated shell. "Control gave us orders not to fire offensively or without visual confirmation!" "@!#@ this, I'd say that half the East Coast has a visual confirmation on the sucker. Fox two! Fox Two!" he exclaimed as he launched two of his heatseekers, which arced unerringly for the big turtle's back. "Screw that! FOX 11!!!!" another pilot yelled as he set his targeting computer to a diagnostic mode and fired all his missile ordinance at once. A hailstorm of air-launched and ground-launched ordinance flew towards the huge turtle, all of it hitting -- And having apparently no effect whatsoever on it's hull. "Christ, how big IS that thing?!" exclaimed Galen as the small four man Corps team took time out to watch the US forces sling the latest in explosive ordinance with little or no effect towards the technological terror in the sky. Rufus, who was looking up as well, and had gotten over his initial shock, could only say "That's... -big-." "What, no measurements, no dimensions to the tenth decimal?" Trevor commented. "Sorry Trevor, but I'm awed beyond the capacity for rational thought," Rufus apologized. Trevor, Galen, and Lugnutz groaned, and Rufus looked around, confused. He didn't get it. "So -now- what do we--" Lugnutz was cut off as a voice spoke, amplified beyond belief by speakers on the titanic turtle. *TAP* *TAP* *SQUEEEEEEEEEL!* "*AHEM* ATTENTION UNITED STATES ARMED FORCES, AND LOCAL MILITIAS! THIS IS THE VOICE OF RAY! I AM THE SOLE MASTER OF THE FIENDISH ORGANIZATION FOR WORLD LARCENY, ALSO KNOWN AS F.O.W.L., AS WELL AS THE COMMANDER OF THE JUGGERNAUT FLOATING ABOVE YOU, THE TERROR MECHANOID FOR NEUTRALIZATION AND TAKEOVER. PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS, AND SURRENDER IMMEDIATELY, OR I WILL VAPORIZE THE ENTIRE CAMPUS AS WELL AS YOUR OWN FORCES, BEFORE TAKING OVER THIS COUNTRY! YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES TO COMPLY. THAT IS ALL." "Well, that answers -my- question," Lugnutz finished for himself. "Do you think he's serious?" Rufus asked. "LOOK at that thing and tell me if he's serious or not!" Trevor exclaimed as he pointed upwards. Everyone who wasn't looking up already did so, regarding the ship with it's umpteen zillion airlocks... "Umpteen zillion airlocks?" Galen pondered to himself. "Ummmmm... I -don't- think all of those are -airlocks-," Trevor replied. They could barely make out the multitudinous ports, gates, and doors that dotted the underside of the turtle's 'shell', as well as larger gates by the 'feet' of the monstrosity. They couldn't see if any were on the top of the shell, but judging by the number on the bottom, there were probably twice as many on the top. But they soon became easier to pick out, because many of them were opening -- revealing weapons of every possible description. "Colonel!" an aide announced to Col. O'Leary as the rest of the members of the field command post hurriedly relayed his orders to the deployed troops. "Scopes have picked up changes in the hostile's radar signature, and IR's picking up changes on it's hull-- we think they may be powering up weap--" His warning was cut off by the sound of a thunderbolt, but hundreds of times louder than what could be naturally produced, followed by a rather dull explosion in the distance. And soon, the air was filled with the sounds of other weapons, weapons this earth had never seen before. "What the HELL was -that-?!" O'Leary exclaimed as he raced out of the command post to get a good look for himself what was going on. "We don't know, Sir! The hostile's fielding stuff we can't classify!" the aide replied as he followed the Colonel. And then he drew quiet for a moment as he saw what his commander was seeing. Above them, blocking out much of the noonday sun and sky, was a gigantic dark-green monstrosity, it's sides and armor studded with what at that scale looked like small spines and holes, although in actuality they were large-bore cannons and missile launchers. Around the ship, Air Force fighters dogged and strafed the surface like flies -- flies that were being swatted left and right by the armament being lobbed at them. The entire sky, from horizon to horizon, was a killzone. The thunderbolt and explosion sounded again, and the officers at the command post watched as a packet of glowing energy shot down from the airborne form, impacting with the ground and causing terrain to spray up on impact. No telling how many lives had been lost right then.