Anlov Record

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We’re moving out. The Anlov Avtomexa pushed along the canyon. The red earth gusted softly, resting on the mech’s armor. The digital red camo hid the dust in its color.

Bonoch signalled to Longsweep. Big followed them. And in the rear, was Ohtlof. 

We lost the Great War. All of us.Now we’re mere shells of ourselves. We were cursed for our actions. We have mutated in soul. All of us. All of the Five Who Fell.

Anlov broke its name. It broke its promise. We sinned against Anlov. 

We’re Anlov Black. We’re answering for our sins.

It doesn’t matter if it was all for nothing. It doesn’t matter if forces too powerful were involved. What matters is that we were tested and we failed. 

We abandoned our people. We became as shadows, leaving people to the darkness to protect ourselves. We abandoned those we pledged to protect. And when those mouths of wars snapped into our people, we clenched our teeth as we ran from their agonizing screams. It doesn’t matter. 

“What matters is that we were tested and we failed.” is a lament we carve into our hearts.

Now our sin is within us. We’re the assassins of space. We’re spies. We’re the special operations wet work you need done.

As cowards, now as formless. Our Nexus is always orbiting the fastest. We are running from ourselves.

And such is formless life. In this Eternal Hell.

Omneewaet’teemb lost the war too. Like us, they splintered. Out of their fracture came the Spiral, those who broke the Romance of Brothers; those who watch the spiral ever form towards the bottom. They even sign their names with big spirals, spinning pointlessly into nothing.

The Spiral had been encroaching on the….who was it again? Doesn’t matter. One of the others here. But in the process, they had been probing into a flank of ours. It was time to re-establish some boundaries. But we couldn’t afford to send much. We four were being sent in to take out a repair station, which is always a dangerous mission. A station could be empty. It could have just completed repairs on 5 fully functional and manned Omneewaeti Spiralists mechs.

We reached a natural bridge and each passed under in turn.

Longsweep, in a Rifleman role Avtomex, went first.

Longsweep: Cooly, “Clear,”

Bonoch, also in a Rifleman role mech, went next.

Bonoch: “Clear.”

Big followed in his Gun role mech. He crouched low.. Bonoch shook his mech’s head, pointing down with its manipulator. Big crouched even lower to clear his mech’s head and mortar under the bridge. Bonoch held Big’s mech’s manipulator to help him maintain his balance.

Big: With a huff, “Let’s go. We’re good.”

And taking up the rear was Ohtlof in his Recon role Avtomex. He was our lead on this mission, keeping a solid eye on our position, our rear, and his sensors. He crouched lower than needed, and walked backwards under the bridge.

Ohtlof: Quietly, “Clear. Hold for sweep”

After his scopes refreshed, showing nothing, we moved onward.  

The canyon was nearing its head. It was a dangerous place to be. We were on the east fork, and to our left was the south-eastern fork. Bonoch and Longsweep would have to crouch forward, and raise up simultaneously to check. Ohtlof detected nothing this whole time, but what does that mean on a battlefield?

Looking back was a relief task. Longsweep would check behind as Bonoch checked the front. Longsweep had done the last one.

And up we go. It’s clear. A release of breath.

Our mechs’ feet walk slowly along the red soil. There’s a layer of smart metal on our mechs’ soles that would puncture down into the earth like dozens of long metal cleats, and then form mushroom shapes to cushion the heavy step. The Gravity Deviant also reduced our weight, making our footfalls all the more unperceivable.

Big has to move slow, and we can only move as fast as our slowest.

Ohtlof: “Brace.”

And so we did.  We titled our swiveling cameras to the east. The rocks and sand pushed from the west. Our mechs’ tensed their muscles. It redistributed their gravity to fight the wind. The tendons strained only slightly. This wind was almost nothing.

And after a wind, and after a pause, the Ohtlof  bid us forward. 

We traveled along the red planet. Its canyons suggested to us to pause, to measure where you will step next. We were up to the challenge, and so were our machines. You feel for your machine like a stead. You feel as it feels. You feel the pebbles under their feet. You know when it hungers. You know what it can do and what’s asking too much.

But they’re not alive. This was our technology. Anlov technology is superior. It just is. Our Avtomexa have Techno Muscles. They have Gravity Deviant systems. They have the Omano Drive. Our Avtomexa have the ability to move as we do. Muscles to allow precise movement and variable exertion. They have the sense of balance to automatically adjust. And with the Omano Drive, they can respond to our thoughts. Nothing so bold as “Win the fight” and “Don’t take damage”.

Bonoch told his steed to brace. And it did.

We reached another sheer cliff face and slowly skulked our way up along.

Ohtlof: “Stop.”

As we waited, Bonoch and Longsweep did passive slow sweeps of their cameras. Big began testing range switches on his Avtomex’s mortar.

Ohtlof signalled for us to advance slowly. As we did, he stopped as more signals came across his scope. Finally, after everything was mapped out, we halted. He projected a code to us. We scanned the code and got a detailed repeating render of the area ahead.

Stealth operations are what we are about. We want to reduce as much signal and electrical signatures as we can. Therefore we broadcast physical code on certain parts of our armor. Our cameras pick it up, and read it.

It was the repair station. Terrible luck. It looked to be 2 small mechs in the north west, and one directly above, near the cliff edge. That much was certain. The giant signature in the middle could be 4 mechs, one large one and a few smaller ones. It could be three middle sized ones. It could be 3 large ones right next to each other. The signature was too dense in its unclear shape.

We all knew the strategy, but Ohtlof gave us the strat, the signals, and the times. We knew. 

We took a moment. Bonoch released the controls. He shook his arms. Then returned his grip. 

Ohtlof jumps back from the cliff wall, firing his magnum into the cockpit of the Omne mech above us.

Big’s Gun mech squats to stabilize and fires a volley of three shots up. 

Bonoch and Longsweep perform boosted jumps upwards and away from each other. Past the cliff, the scene is clear. 

We see two Mecha’d-Beasted repairing a Roach type. And to the northwest, two Raptor types were turning around to face the sounds. 

One Mecha’d-Beasted barely begins a roar before Longsweep puts a round between its armor and blows out its heart. The Techno Muscle, Onamo Drive, and Gravity Deviant allow this swift death.

Bonoch fires his rifle, ricocheting off the armor of the Mecha’d-Beasted that remains. The dead beast was some primate. This one was a sort of spiked mammal. It utters a dull grunt as it stumbles back. The shot had caught it mid-posture-shift. It regains its composure right for Big’s shell to fall on it.

We love the way a Gun role’s instrument enters the story. Many Anlov melodies start with it.

The Mecha’d-Beasted spike monster’s shoulder armor is hit so hard that it dislocates the shoulder. It squeals in horror as it now runs towards Bonoch. Its arms had been mechified. From the elbows down were construction appendages. The delicate manipulator hands retract, leaving a giant two-sided hammer and wedge tool. It swings wildly at Bonoch as he lands. His Rifleman dodges while firing this tandem underbarrel machine-guns at the rapidly approaching Mecha’d-Beasted.

A frenzied Mecha’d-Beasted was something we all gave our highest respect to. One must never think it just some animal. Any one of us could die from a single strike of its panicked flailing.

Our Type Nine Ordinance Frames have the popular configuration: 115 millimeter Mega Rifle, with a tandem 30mm double machine gun on the underbarrel. We fire the 115 right into the soft points. And while the autoloader puts the next round in, we hose down the enemy with machine gun rounds.

Why?

Amidst the deluge of tiny bullets, blood shoots from the Mecha’d-Beasted’s flesh. Gaps between armor, exposed during motion, catches these stray bullets.

It shriekes and stumbles.

The Raptor mechs were approaching. We need to finish this one off. The autocannons from the Roach type start firing. The second shot from the Gun role strikes. There comes a crunch of metal along with the explosion.

A shot rings through the leg of the Mecha’d-Beasted. Ohtlof had reached the top of the cliff, running up the face.

The spike beast shrieks feverishly as it struggles to stand with his thigh gushing with gore. It begins dragging itself towards the Rifleman.

Fire cuts in from the north west. The raptors were coming right for the Rifleman and their ally. Their rod guns rattle off as they race forward. Their spikes punch right through the Riflemans’ gauntlet. Bonoch can’t bring his rifle to bear in the onslaught.

The Recon role jumps forward, vaulting over the Rifleman. Ohtlof fires off a shot at the body of the first Raptor type. It strikes, but there is no penetration. Thankfully, the shock is enough to make it stumble. Bonoch uses this instance of reprieve to turn and fire a 115 round right into the face of the Mecha’d-Beasted. No squeal. Nothing.

The Roach type keeps firing its autocannons at Longsweep, who was crouching behind an outcropping, unable to return fire. We use our periscopes here, but one of the auto cannons had knocked off Longsweep’s.

Then came the third shot from the Gun role. The round hits the ground, rumbling it. Longsweep stands up enough to assess. The shot had hit far enough from the Roach Type so as to be ineffective. However, it throws enough earth up, obscuring its firing line.

Longsweep bellows over his speakers and through the comms.

Longsweep: “Correct fire! Correct fire! Correct fire angle-”

A round from the autocannons cuts through the outcropping rock and punches the Rifleman’s torso. The collision sends Longsweep bouncing in his harness.

Longsweep: Furiously, “Shit! Shit! Correct fire angle North 6 zab, East 3 zab! Correct fire angle North 6 zab, East 3 zab! Send triple! Send triple!”

We hear it scurry, fighting to break free from its anchoring. We all understand each other out here. The autocannons stop firing over Longsweep. From the sound, the guns turn to fire on the other Rifleman and the Recon.

We live a cursed existence. We betrayed ourselves in that war. We forgot each other. We try to make our amends when we can.

Longsweep stands up and fires on the Roach type’s legs. One of its many legs snaps and bends. It still flails, now tugging in random directions. It finally snaps free.

The next Gun shot hits. It catches the Roach on its aft, blowing the section clean off. It drags itself away with its remaining appendages behind cover of the bays of the repair station  The second shot smashes the ground, ineffective.

Longsweep, yelling: “Halt double! Halt double!”

The Roach’s autocannons roar still. Longsweep re-postitions, pursuing the Roach. As his mech sprints around the cover, he sees the other Rifleman get cut down by the autocannons, its chest caving in, killing Bonoch. 

The remaining Rifleman charges forward, firing his rifle. The round punches through the armor, but there’s no explosion inside.

The Rifleman draws its blade and thrusts it right into the body of the Roach. The Techno Muscles strain to pull the blade up and the Roach up with it, pulling its guns off target.

Longsweep slams his rifle down on the Roach type to steady the rifle and fires a 115 into the raptor still standing. The shot crunches into the raptor’s side, detonating the mech as its reactor explodes. The explosion launches the Raptor’s parts into the Recon, knocking it over next to the gutted Rifleman. 
Longsweep pulls his blade out, and hacks away at the autocannons’ feed mechanisms.

It was over. We did it.

One of ours is dead. Maybe two. Ohtlof lost a lot of blood when rod rounds had punched into the cockpit, taking his foot off.

We dragged the remaining survivors from the base to the main hangar. As we restrained them, they told us that their main force wasn’t far behind. It will be here soon and with it more fighting.

We know. We all know. We all understand each other in this worst way. We live a cursed existence.