Cry Havoc Chapter 2 - Kerberos

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My footsteps echoed through the sterile corridor, each metallic clang announcing my approach to the mech bay. The skin-tight suit brushed against itself softly with every movement, the only other sound in this lifeless passage. My visor showed me where to go, and the massive double doors to the mech bay slid open before me with a hydraulic hiss. The smells hit me first—machine oil, ozone, the acrid tang of metal polish and exhaust fumes. The bay stretched before me, vast and cluttered with lesser machines, maintenance drones scurrying about like insects. I ignored them all.

There, in the center bay, stood an engine of destruction.

I hadn’t felt much in the way of emotion since I woke up, but seeing her found something still alive in me… she was beautiful. Fifteen meters of midnight black armor with red energy conduits running along her frame like glowing veins, held up on four strong legs arranged in a square configuration with six booster engines for rapid acceleration and course changes. Gold trim accentuated the edges of armor plating, except where point defense weapons and reactive armor were ready to activate and deflect incoming harm. The twin rail cannons mounted on her shoulders gleamed under the harsh bay lighting, deadly and perfect; and the right forearm housing contained the high-frequency laser blade projector that could carve through metal with no more difficulty than through air. Her wings couldn’t be seen at the moment, but I could see the ports they folded up into a frame on the back of the torso, and the way the additional booster engines tucked cleverly into the frame when they retracted.

It was mine. The thought pulsed through me with possessive intensity. Technicians crawled over her like parasites, making final adjustments, but not even their presence could diminish her magnificence. This beautiful thing was not Ka Corporation's, nor was she Cernunnos’s. She was my body. Mine.

The door I came through was along a walkway about 8 meters off the ground, the room extending above and below me. I approached, and the technicians scattered from my path without a word. They knew better than to engage me, to distract me before a mission. I stood before Kerberos, tilting my head back to take in her majesty. Then I reached out, pressing my gloved palm against the cool metal of her armored hip and leg.

The sensation traveled through my palm, up my arm, straight to my core, and a shiver of anticipation rippled through me. I traced my fingers along the smooth black surface, feeling every minute imperfection, every battle scar that had been buffed and polished but never truly erased. I had never piloted her, never been inside her, never even seen her before… and yet I felt like I knew her better than I knew my own body. She was me.

Kerberos stood alone in the hangar. It was huge, with docks for a dozen Fenrir units, but mine was the only one here. My briefings hadn’t included any information about other mechs or pilots for the Ka Corporation, either. It seemed likely that they had all been lost–Destroyed or captured by the Rebels. Their forces must have been formidable.

Still, that thought couldn’t distract me from the beautiful thing before me. I circled my mech slowly, my fingers never breaking contact with her surface. The red energy conduits pulsed with power, warm compared to the cool armor plating. I caressed them gently, feeling the thrumming energy beneath my fingertips.

I moved to the access ladder and began to climb, each rung bringing me closer to union with my machine. My mind was already reaching out, anticipating the neural link… something it appeared I had been conditioned to expect. Once I connected with her, I would feel real power flooding my augmented synapses, and we would merge into a single killing machine. The technicians below became irrelevant, fading from my awareness entirely. There was only my mech now, and the promise of what we would become together.

The cockpit hatch on the side of her chest opened at my approach, recognizing the neural signature embedded in my augmentations. I slipped inside the cramped space, my fingers automatically finding their place on the internal control surfaces. The shock chair embraced me, its form-fitting contours molding to my body just as closely as my suit did. I settled back, feeling the cool metal of the neural interface nodes as the back of my visor found them and slotted into place.

Home. This… This felt like home.

I allowed myself one more breath of emotional response, reveling in just how right it felt to sit here in this mighty body. Then I reached forward and initiated the power-up sequence, my gloved fingers dancing across the tactile controls with practiced precision. The cockpit hummed to life around me, lights flickering on, systems beginning their boot sequences. Deep within the mech's core, I felt the fusion reactor in standby mode stirring to life, a low vibration that traveled through the frame and into my body.

Then the neural interface came alive, and nothing else in the entire universe mattered.

The earliest generation of Fenrir platforms had been piloted by analog and digital controls, the way a primitive Manticore was controlled. I had them as well, but a modern masterpiece like Kerberos didn’t need them for most things. Instead, her computers connected directly into my reprogrammed mind, turning the body into an extension of my central nervous system. A sharp jolt of pain lanced through my skull as a heavy weight landed on my mind with crushing force. It started out agonizingly intense, so strong that it would have driven most people mad in a second, and then it just kept getting worse and worse and worse. The pain built rapidly, a pressure behind my eyes that threatened to split my head open.

And then... release.

My consciousness expanded beyond the confines of my skull, spilling out into Kerberos's systems. I felt myself stretching, growing, becoming something more than human. The mech's sensors became my senses—infrared, ultraviolet, electromagnetic, radar, and lidar. Data streamed directly into my augmented brain, processed faster than any unenhanced human could comprehend. This was the reason pilots had to be augmented… No normal mind could process the amount of data it took to handle the neural load of synchronization.

One of the reasons.

I flexed my new body, feeling the massive servos and hydraulics respond to my thoughts as readily as my own muscles. The twin rail cannons swiveled at my command, targeting systems coming online with predatory eagerness. The missile deployment system in the chest ran through its diagnostic checks, each warhead a tooth in my new metal mouth, ready to bite, ready to kill.

I was no longer just a helpless, tame woman. I was a Fenrir. We were one.

"Hound-91, status report. Is Cerberus operational?"

The voice sliced through my moment of transcendence, cold and demanding. Cernunnos. His voice didn’t come through the transmitters in my ears this time, I noticed… They came directly into my brain through the neural link. My master was yanking on my leash.

"Yes, sir. Cerberus online and operational, sir," I replied, the words leaving my mouth automatically. It was practically a programmed response… but it was wrong.

CERBERUS. Cerberus. Cerberus. The name grated against my mind like a dull blade. Wrong. That name… It didn’t fit this magnificent body. She wasn’t Cerberus, I knew that with absolute certainty. Her name was Kerberos. I knew it. I just… couldn’t explain why I knew it. It was frustrating: The knowledge sat in my mind, but it had no source other than a vague sense of wrongness that the name didn’t fit.

Irrelevant. A name is a name. Protocol insisted I use the device’s designation to avoid any inefficiency or confusion. My misgivings did not matter.

So I would call her Cerberus, as my master bade. But that was not her name.

"Preparation for launch in T-minus five minutes," Cernunnos continued, his voice eager. He was looking forward to this. That gave me the slightest bit of license to feel the same way, even if I couldn’t quite bring myself to smile beneath the hood. "Your mission parameters and course have been uploaded to your tactical display. Primary objective: elimination of rebel outpost Gamma-Six. Secondary objective: assessment of enemy force capabilities. Tertiary objective: capture of intel if opportunity arises."

"Yes, sir."

"Prepare for compression fluid immersion. Launch bay will depressurize in T-minus four minutes."

I reached for the respirator mask hanging beside the shock chair, fitting it over the lower portion of my face, the only part of me exposed by my hood. The rubber seal pressed against my skin, airtight. I performed the three-point check—seal, air flow, filter status; all green. I felt the mechanical whirr through the chair as nozzles descended from the cockpit ceiling. I took one final breath of normal air before switching to the respirator's oxygen supply.

The amber-tinted compression fluid began to spray into the cockpit, a fine mist at first, then a steady stream. The fluid hit my suit with a sensation like liquid silk, cool at first then quickly warming to body temperature. It rose rapidly, covering my legs, my hips, my chest, until I was completely submerged.

The strange weightlessness of immersion took hold, and with it came further silence. I thought I had been deaf to anything outside of my communicator before, but with the fluid surrounding me that became completely true. The fluid, unlike most liquids, had been engineered to be highly compressible. Enough to keep me at nearly fifteen Gs of pressure inside the cockpit… the other reason pilots needed to be augmented. The thickness of my environment would help to absorb the shock of rapid movement, keeping me alive at the speeds Kerberos could move.

It also meant that no vibrations at all reached me through the dampening liquid… My world vanished save for the hiss of oxygen through my respirator and the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat. I closed my eyes as the pressure grew and grew and grew, squeezing me as I floated in the womb-like embrace of the compression fluid. I felt it as Kerberos's systems integrated fully with my own. In this moment, suspended between human and machine, I was as close to content as I could ever be.

When I opened my eyes again, I was ready to kill.

The launch sequence rumbled through Kerberos's frame, through the compression fluid, and into my bones. I merely had to think the instructions and I felt the booster engines built into my back legs ignite, a surge of raw power that made my body tremble with anticipation. This was the moment I had been made for—when the leash was momentarily loosened, when I was the predator I was born to be.

"Launch authorization confirmed," came the voice of one of the docking station techs. "Bay depressurization complete. Docking clamps releasing in three, two, one..."

The hydraulic clamps that held Kerberos in place disengaged with a satisfying clunk that I felt rather than heard through the compression fluid. The mech now stood unsupported, held in place only by my control. I flexed her massive legs, feeling the servos and pistons respond as if they were my own muscles, testing the balance, ensuring all systems were green.

"Hound-91, you are cleared for launch," Cernunnos's voice crackled into my mind. "Proceed to mission coordinates upon exit."

"Yes, sir," I replied.

The massive bay doors before me began to part, sliding open with glacial slowness to reveal the star-speckled void beyond. The blackness of space stretched before me, limitless and beckoning. Black and vast, but not empty, not to me—Kerberos's enhanced sensors picked up radiation patterns, gravitational fluctuations, the faint wisps of solar wind. Data streams fed directly into my augmented brain, painting a picture far more complex than mere visible light could have ever provided.

I engaged the thrusters at a mere ten percent capacity, feeling the vibration intensify as Kerberos began to lift off from the bay floor. The mech rose smoothly, hovering for a moment as I made final adjustments to the propulsion systems. Perfect. Everything was perfect.

With a thought, I directed the boosters backward and sent Kerberos gliding forward toward the open bay doors. The transition from artificial spin-gravity to zero-G happened in an instant, a momentary sensation of weightlessness before my mind compensated. And then I was out, free of the confining station, suspended in the infinite black.

I just sat there in stillness for several glorious seconds, drinking in the sensation of being untethered. From here, it was like I was floating in infinity with nothing but the vast and beautiful starscape all around me. In front of me, Elysium… a beautiful jewel waiting to be descended upon, plucked, and put into the corporation’s grasp. Behind me, Ka Corporation Orbital Command spun its false-gravity generating circle. Further behind, the huge ring of Elysium’s Warp Relay Gate orbited at the L2 Lagrange point, connecting this far-flung world to the rest of human space. Out here, I floated between them… free.

Then I cranked the thrusters to my non-combat limit of 40% and I felt the massive kick of acceleration slam me back into the shock chair. The compression fluid surrounding me absorbed most of the G-forces, but enough bled through to make my heart race with primal excitement. Kerberos shot away from the station like a bullet, the massive structure rapidly shrinking behind me. I banked hard left, then right, testing the mech's responsiveness. The reaction was instantaneous, the neural link translating my intentions into action with zero latency. I executed a perfect barrel roll, then a swift turn and a diving loop, pushing the massive machine through maneuvers that would tear apart a lesser human’s circulatory system.

From here, as I exited the gravity zone, I could see a smaller station orbiting the main one and was instantly aware of what it was. AEGIS. My mind pulled the label from the tactical data faster than I could think, the word burning bright on my mental display. Information flooded in like a tsunami, relentless and overwhelming. A fully autonomous weapons platform, the colossal defense system was covered with layer upon layer of reactive armor and active defenses capable of dissipating force. Armed with half a hundred rotating missile arrays, laser cannon, railguns, and point-defense turrets, it was built to withstand any assault... and more importantly, any mech.

I felt nervous under its automated guns. An AI controlled that platform, not any human. The Elysium campaign had revealed the need for something like it to protect the Ka Corporation’s precious investment since the facility had been vulnerable to attack from rebel forces, so the AEGIS had been brought here from their corporate headquarters to defend it, answerable only to override codes belonging to the board of directors themselves. If it decided I was a threat, it would start firing, and no one on the station would be able to do anything.

I tried not to think about it. We were on the same side. Most importantly, the rebels had tried their best to break it. Tried, and failed. It had proved up to its task of defending this station, and would again if needed.

With a mental command, I deployed the wings. They extended from Kerberos's back with mechanical grace, unfurling like an angel's—if angels were built of black carbon-fiber alloy and tipped with weapon hardpoints. Fully extended, they spanned twenty meters from tip to tip, their sleek aerodynamic surfaces gleaming in the starlight. The four main boosters mounted on the wings roared to life at my command, augmenting the primary thrusters. The combined thrust sent Kerberos hurtling through space at speeds that would push all of the blood from the brain of an unaugmented human. The compression fluid surrounding me rippled with the acceleration, pressing against my skin-tight suit, a constant reminder of the incredible forces at work.

I flexed my new body and shot through the void, the massive structure falling behind as I accelerated. Kerberos was built for this. I pushed the mech harder, faster, reveling in her capabilities. This was what I was made for—this perfect union of human judgment and tactical decision making with raw machine power. In these moments, I almost forgot about the leash around my neck, about Cernunnos and Ka Corporation and all the restrictions placed upon me.

Almost.

"Hound-91, adjust your course. You're deviating from the optimal approach vector," Cernunnos's voice sliced through my moment of freedom.

"Yes, sir.” My jaw twitched behind my respirator mask. “Adjusting course, sir."

Elysium dominated my visual field, a blue and violet jewel against the blackness of space. Liquid water covered much of the surface like it supposedly did on far-away Earth, while plants fed from violet leaves filled with purpurophyll. From up above it looked deceptively peaceful, its oceans reflecting the light of its star. Kerberos's sensors painted a more detailed picture—the three major continental masses were filled with volcanic and geological activity, with active magmatic ranges stretched like angry red scars across the planet's surface. Elysium was geologically quiet compared to the way it was about ten thousand years ago–humans would have never been able to live in a place so hostile back then–but it was still more active than nearly any colony world in the Federation.

Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that someplace so dynamic and hostile would give birth to something like Styx.

As I approached, I engaged the atmospheric entry protocols. Kerberos's armor plates shifted subtly, reconfiguring for optimal aerodynamics. The heat shield deployed, a thin layer of reactive material spreading across the mech's forward surfaces. Then I hit the upper atmosphere at a precisely calculated angle, Kerberos's massive frame shuddering as she encountered resistance for the first time. Friction heated the heat shield to temperatures that would vaporize conventional metals, the glow surrounding me like a vengeful angel’s halo. Through the neural link and our combined nervous system, I felt the heat as a distant warmth… I was running at a 2% transfer rate, more than enough to keep the pain from growing distracting while still letting me pilot Kerberos like it was my own body.

The violent shaking intensified as I penetrated deeper into the atmosphere. Lesser pilots might have panicked, might have fought against the bucking, writhing motions of their mechs. I embraced it, rode it, letting Kerberos find her natural rhythm through the turbulence. The compression fluid surrounding me dampened the worst of the physical jolts, allowing me to focus entirely on maintaining the perfect entry trajectory.

Then, suddenly, we broke through the worst of it. The violent shaking subsided to a gentle tremor, the blinding glow of reentry fading to reveal the world below.

Elysium spread out beneath me, its true nature now apparent. The lavender-tinged sky was my first impression, the slightly higher oxygen content creating a stunning visual effect that no image could properly capture. Below, the landscape was a study in violent contrast—active volcanic ranges with rivers of molten lava cutting through dense alien forests of petrified flora. Even from this height I could make out the bioluminescent not-fungus, glowing with eerie beauty in the shadows cast by massive, twisted trunks.

I adjusted Kerberos's flight path, angling her wings to catch the upper atmosphere currents, gliding rather than burning fuel unnecessarily. Steam vents dotted the terrain below, releasing giant plumes of vapor that created perpetual mists dancing across the valleys. The effect was almost ethereal, a dreamlike quality to the alien landscape that might have been beautiful if I had been programmed to care about such things. Kerberos's sensors detected the geothermal activity beneath the surface. Extensive cave systems honeycombed the continental plates. Those caves were where most of the colonists lived, safe from the volatile surface conditions. It made them safe from me, too… for now.

I checked the tactical display, noting the mission coordinates blinking red against the terrain map. The rebel outpost was located in a valley between two dormant volcanic peaks, partially concealed by the dense forest and perpetual mist. Clever, but not clever enough to hide from Kerberos's advanced sensor array.

I angled the mech downward, the four boosters roaring as I accelerated toward the target area. The wind screamed past Kerberos's aerodynamic frame, creating a banshee wail that would announce my arrival to anyone within kilometers. Not that it mattered—stealth wasn't part of today's mission parameters. Today was about fear, about making a statement, and about showing the rebels exactly what they were up against.

The lavender sky darkened slightly as I descended, atmospheric particulates creating a purplish haze that filtered the sunlight. The bioluminescent flora became more distinct, their strange, alien patterns creating ghostly trails through the forest canopy. Massive trees with trunks as wide as buildings rose like silent sentinels, their bark gleaming with a metallic sheen that suggested high mineral content.

As I broke through the cloud layer, the full splendor of Elysium's surface came into view. The forest spread out like a living carpet, pulsing with alien life. The volcanic peaks loomed in the distance, their slopes black against the lavender sky. Steam vents released giant plumes of vapor that created swirling patterns in the air, dancing on thermal currents.

And there, nestled between the peaks, barely visible through the mist and forest canopy, was my target—the rebel outpost Gamma-Six. Even from this distance, Kerberos's sensors detected movement, the heat signatures of bodies and machines, the electromagnetic emissions of communications equipment and vehicles.

I adjusted my approach vector, systems automatically calculating optimal weapons deployment angles. My fingers twitched with anticipation, the neural link translating my bloodlust into Kerberos's ready weapon systems. The twin rail cannons hummed with building power, the missile deployment system running final checks. The high-frequency laser blade remained sheathed for now, but I could feel it waiting, hungry for close combat.

The rebels had no idea what was about to hit them. I would crush them beneath Kerberos's feet, burn them with her weapons, tear their fragile bodies and machines apart with her hands. And I would feel every moment of it, every death, every scream, every victory.

I smiled behind my respirator mask as I began my final descent into hell.

Alarms blared across the rebel compound—they'd spotted me. Not that it mattered. Knowing death was coming wouldn't help them escape it. Heat signatures bloomed across my tactical display—humans scurrying like ants, activating defensive units. The outpost seemed to be primarily defended by Manticore heavy weapon platforms. They were powering up… but Kerberos was on them too quickly, and it was too late.

I identified twenty-seven Manticore units in various stages of activation. The treaded weapon platforms were heavily armed and armored, but they were also badly outdated… just one more piece of previously cutting-edge weapons technology that the Fenrir platform had made completely obsolete. Their firepower was considerable… but only if they could hit me. Further back on the hillside, sixteen Harpy-class aerial units were launching vertically, their VTOL fixed wings loaded with short-range missiles and light pulse cannons. Those weapons would have to work together to penetrate Kerberos's advanced armor plating, but unlike the Manticores they would be able to keep up with me at least a little. I would have to take some care…

But only a little.

My targeting systems locked onto the largest concentration of enemy forces, calculations streaming through my augmented brain faster than thought. The twin rail cannons on Kerberos's shoulders hummed with building power, eager to unleash destruction. My finger hovered over the trigger, savoring the moment before the slaughter began.

"Target acquired," I reported, my voice flat and clinical. "Engaging primary objective."

The rail cannons discharged with a thunderous crack that reverberated through Kerberos's frame and into my body. Twin streams of hyper-accelerated metal slugs tore through the air, leaving visible distortion in their wake as they set the air on fire. They struck the ground in the nearest cluster of Manticore units with devastating force.

The results were immediate and spectacular. It transformed a large amount of stone into an enormous fragmentation grenade moving several times faster than the speed of sound. Three enemy units simply ceased to exist, transformed into expanding clouds of superheated metal and fumes with their crews vaporized along with the machines, leaving nothing behind but widely dispersed bloody mist. Two more Manticores toppled, massive holes punched through their armor badly enough to take out critical systems. I felt a cold thrill of satisfaction as the tactical display updated, five threats neutralized in less than a second.

I didn't pause to admire my handiwork. Firing the rail cannons had an equal and opposite effect on Kerberos and practically left me stationary in mid-air. I boosted downward as I commanded the wings to fold back into storage. The neural link translated my intentions into action instantaneously, and dug my legs in in a wide stance the moment I hit the earth, bracing myself for another volley. The rail cannons recycled as quickly as they could, marvelously fast… but time seemed to pass so slowly in battle, and even slower for an augmented human like me as I had to wait for their magnetic accelerators to cool and recharge. Then, three seconds—or a full eternity—later, they fired again.

This time the rebels were already moving, attempting to scatter and find cover. Useless. My targeting systems compensated automatically, the hyper-accelerated slugs finding their marks with unerring accuracy. Two more Manticores erupted in flames and twisted metal. I picked up the echo of the explosion over the audio sensors, the sounds of men’s deaths triggering nothing in me but clinical interest in confirming kills.

The remaining Manticores were returning fire now, their plasma cannons spitting globs of superheated matter toward Kerberos. I was already gone… Cranking the boosters up to 60%, I changed direction with a degree of speed that would have liquified a normal woman. My legs couldn’t possibly keep up with that, but that was alright–I planted them on the ground for stability and let the engines drag the reinforced metal feet across the stone and earth like skates. Almost all of the incoming fire ravaged the cliffside where I would have been, and the few shots that corrected were glancing blows that splashed harmlessly against Kerberos's reactive armor, the energy dissipated and channeled off into discarded bits of ejected slag.

"Hound-91, adjust your position. You're too exposed on that ridgeline." Cernunnos's voice commanded.

"Yes, sir." The words left my mouth automatically while I inwardly seethed. I knew exactly what I was doing. I wanted them to see me, to understand the hopelessness of their situation before I ended them. Nevertheless, my handler's commands were non-negotiable. I engaged Kerberos's thrusters, lifting off the ridge and dropping into the valley below. The mech's massive feet crushed the alien vegetation, bioluminescent fluid spraying like blood from the broken plant matter. The mist swirled around us, momentarily obscuring visual sensors before adaptive algorithms compensated.

The battle was evolving now. The Harpy units had formed a loose attack pattern, circling above like vultures. The remaining Manticores had spread out, using the dense forest for partial cover. A more coordinated response than I'd expected, but ultimately futile.

Time to introduce them to my missile deployment system.

I activated the targeting matrix, designating eight Harpy units in rapid succession. The chest plates of my mech slid apart, revealing the recessed missile batteries. A satisfying clicking sound resonated through the frame as the warheads locked into firing position.

"Fox three," I muttered. For just a moment, I wondered why I had said that, or what it meant. That wasn’t a Ka Corporation designation. Then the missiles launched, and I didn’t have any more time to wonder about it as they erupted in a fiery tempest that rocked my entire body, eight streaks of propellant cutting up through the mist toward their targets.

The Harpy pilots attempted evasive maneuvers, breaking formation and deploying countermeasures. Chaff and flares bloomed against the lavender sky, a desperate attempt to confuse my targeting systems. Two missiles were successfully decoyed, detonating harmlessly in empty air. The other six found their marks.

The explosions lit up the sky like miniature suns, and my visors darkened automatically to protect my vision. Through the neural link, I felt a ghost of the destruction—heat, pressure, the momentary resistance of metal before yielding to inevitable physics. Six Harpy units were reduced to falling debris, their pilots nothing but atoms dispersing in the atmosphere.

I turned my attention back to the ground forces, noting that several Manticores had used my distraction to advance into flanking positions. The tactic wasn’t without merit… I wouldn’t be able to boost away the same way I had before without moving into a dangerous crossfire. They opened fire simultaneously, a combined shower of plasma bursts and depleted uranium slugs in volumes to actually present a threat.

Unfortunately for them, they had no idea what I was capable of.

I engaged Kerberos's lateral thrusters and adjusted the power up to 100%. My mech shot sideways across the ground with a grace and speed that belied her massive size. That sudden acceleration would have killed most people. The compression fluid surrounding me rippled with the G-forces and even for an augmented pilot like me it was enough to make my vision go almost entirely black for a moment. It was enough: Most of the plasma bolts missed entirely. Two connected, causing temperature warnings to flash briefly across my neural display before the automatic systems compensated.

The rail cannons had fully recycled, and I unleashed another devastating volley. At this range, I could hardly miss, and two more Manticores disappeared in spectacular explosions. This close, the armor didn’t protect them at all, and their power cores went critical the moment I shot them, maximizing secondary damage to nearby targets. I was targeting their power cores now, maximizing the secondary damage as they detonated.

They thought they had me. They thought that at this range, they would be able to pin me down.

Fools.

Kerberos crashed through the forest canopy, massive trees snapping like twigs beneath her armored feet. I zeroed in on the nearest cluster of Manticores, their operators frantically adjusting their aim to track my rapid approach.

Too slow.

With a thought, I activated the high-frequency laser blade housed in my right forearm. The weapon deployed with a sharp, ionized shriek of escaping gases, extending to its full three-meter length. The pale red light cast an eerie glow through the smoke and mist. I brought the blade down on the nearest Manticore before its operator could react. The sensation through the neural link was exquisite—initial resistance as the blade contacted the armor plating, then the satisfying give as it carved through armor and then circuitry. I could even imagine I felt the soft flesh of the human inside. The Manticore split nearly in half, sparks and flame erupting from the wound before its power core destabilized, finishing what I'd started with a secondary explosion.

Blood lust surged through me, my heart rate increasing despite the emotional dampeners built into my augmentations. This was what I lived for—the kill, the direct application of overwhelming force.

I spun Kerberos around, the blade carving a lethal arc through the air. Two more Manticores tried to back away, their outdated hydraulics whining with the effort. I leapt forward with another max power boost, the mech's fifteen-meter frame moving with impossible agility that made the formerly impressive weapon platforms look like the obsolete junk they were. The blade took the first Manticore at the junction between its crew cabin and its power plant. The second managed to fire a desperate plasma burst at point-blank range. The shot connected, heating Kerberos's chest armor to near-critical levels. Warning signals flashed across my neural display and I winced momentarily at the flash of pain and heat… strong and distinct sensations after how muted everything else felt in my bodysuit. I forced myself to ignore the sensations and drove the laser blade straight through the Manticore's central cabin and out the other side. The unit collapsed, its systems failing catastrophically, secondary explosions rippling through its frame.

"Hound-91, you have an opening to disengage towards polar North. Pull back and reassess the battlefield." Cernunnos's voice cut through my battle euphoria like a bucket of cold water.

"Yes, sir," I replied, the words automatic while rage boiled inside me. How dare he interrupt the dance? How dare he pull my leash when I was performing exactly as I'd been designed to?

Still, programmed obedience forced me to disengage, thrusters lifting Kerberos above the tree line to gain a tactical overview. The battlefield had evolved in the brief minutes since engagement began. The remaining Manticores had fallen back to defensive positions around what appeared to be the main command center—a reinforced structure half-buried in the mountainside. The Harpy units had regrouped as well, forming a protective screen above the retreating ground forces.

"New tactical assessment," Cernunnos continued, his tone suggesting he was reading from a display rather than actually watching the battle. "Eliminate the aerial units before proceeding to the command center. Capture of intelligence is now a priority."

"Understood, sir." My fingers tightened on the controls, the only outward sign of my frustration. I'd been winning. More than winning—dominating. And now he wanted to dictate tactics from his safe, distant position?

Before I could implement the new strategy, my threat assessment systems blared a warning. Multiple fast-moving objects approaching from the east—the remaining ten Harpy units had abandoned their defensive position and were coming straight for me in a coordinated attack formation.

At least that would be something interesting.

The Harpies streaked through the lavender sky, their sleek forms designed for atmospheric combat. They were faster than Kerberos in straight-line flight, but lacked its maneuverability and firepower. They'd committed to an all-or-nothing attack, hoping to overwhelm me with numbers.

I felt a cold smile form behind my respirator mask. Let them come.

The first wave of enemy missiles streaked toward me, dozens of contrails cutting through the mist. I engaged Kerberos's point defense system, and the array of small pulse lasers automatically targeted and destroyed the incoming projectiles. Explosions bloomed around me, the compression fluid darkening again to protect my vision from the flashes.

Three missiles made it through the defensive screen. I twisted Kerberos in mid-air, the massive mech moving with impossible grace. Two missiles streaked past, missing by meters. The third connected with Kerberos's left leg, the explosion rocking the frame but causing minimal damage.

Now it was my turn.

I pushed Kerberos into a steep climb, accelerating directly toward the approaching Harpy formation. They scattered, breaking their neat attack pattern, exactly as I'd intended. They sought to surround me… I wanted to divide them up, make it so they couldn’t cover each other’s backs nearly as well. Divide and conquer—the oldest strategy in warfare, still effective after millennia.

I singled out two Harpies that had veered left, bringing Kerberos's rail cannons to bear. The targeting solution appeared in my neural display, and I fired without hesitation. The hyper-accelerated slugs tore through the air, catching the first Harpy dead center. The much lighter armor on a Harpy compared to a Manticore meant that I didn’t even see an impact - The unit simply disappeared, transformed into an expanding cloud of debris and flaming gas. The second Harpy attempted evasive action, rolling right, but the second rail slug clipped its wing. The unit spun out of control, spiraling toward the forest below before impact turned it into a fireball.

Eight remaining, and they were regrouping, attempting to surround me from all sides.

I cut Kerberos's main thrusters, allowing the mech to drop like a stone. The sudden maneuver caught the Harpy pilots by surprise—they'd been anticipating continued aerial combat. As I fell, I boosted forward, converting the vertical drop into a horizontal glide directly underneath the Harpy formation. The missile deployment system was ready again. I designated four targets and fired, the warheads streaking upward from Kerberos's chest into the underbellies of the Harpies just starting to react to the new threat vector. Four more explosions lit up the sky, raining burning debris onto the forest below.

The remaining four Harpies broke formation, attempting to scatter and regroup. I reengaged the main thrusters, pushing Kerberos into a tight vertical loop that brought me directly behind the slowest Harpy. The rail cannons spoke again, transforming the unit into scattered atoms.

Three left, and they were fleeing now, all pretense of attack abandoned. I could have let them go—they posed no threat, and the primary objective was the command center. But that wasn't my nature, nor was it Kerberos's. We hunted. We killed. We finished what we started.

I pushed the thrusters to maximum output, Kerberos's frame shuddering with the strain as we rocketed after the fleeing Harpies. The compression fluid surrounding me thickened automatically, protecting me from the extreme G-forces. I caught the first within seconds, the laser blade deploying and slicing through its engines before it could react. The second managed to release a desperate burst of countermeasures, the chaff momentarily confusing my targeting systems—but not my eyes. I adjusted manually, the rail cannons finding their mark despite the interference.

The final Harpy pilot was better than the others, throwing their unit into a series of evasive maneuvers that would have shaken any conventional pursuit. But Kerberos was not conventional, and neither was I. I anticipated rather than followed, cutting across the Harpy's projected path and meeting it head-on. For a brief moment, I glimpsed the pilot's face through the cockpit—eyes wide with terror, mouth open in a scream I couldn't hear. Then the laser blade connected, and there was nothing but expanding debris.

"Aerial threat neutralized," I reported, a cold satisfaction flowing through me. "Proceeding to command center as instructed."

I turned Kerberos toward the reinforced structure where the remaining Manticores had established their final defensive position. They opened fire as I approached, a desperate fusillade of plasma bursts and missiles that might have threatened a lesser mech. I didn't bother with evasive action. Kerberos's armor could withstand their pitiful weapons at this range, and I wanted them to see their inevitable doom approaching, unstoppable and implacable.

The rail cannons cycled to full power, and I unleashed a devastating barrage on the defensive line. Manticores exploded, their formations shattered. Those that survived the initial volley tried to scatter, but there was nowhere to run. I landed Kerberos directly in their midst, the impact sending shockwaves through the ground that toppled two more units.

The laser blade deployed once more, and I became death incarnate. I carved through the remaining Manticores with methodical butchery, each kill sending sparks of pleasure through the neural link. Within minutes, the battlefield fell silent, nothing left but smoking debris and scattered corpses.

As I surveyed the destruction I'd wrought, I felt nothing but cold satisfaction. This hadn’t been a battle; it was pest control. And I was the exterminator.

I stood amid the carnage, Kerberos's sensors cataloging the destruction with cold precision. Smoke billowed from the shattered remains of Manticores, their twisted metal frames scattered across the clearing like broken toys. Heat signatures from the burning wreckage created a tactical display of red and orange blooms against the purple-tinged forest.

Kerberos stood before the command center, sensors scanning for any remaining threats. Nothing moved. Nothing survived in my vision. Any soldier left had retreated into the building where I couldn’t reach them without destroying the intelligence we hoped to claim, or ran into the woods to get away. Finding no other threats, I reported back to Cernunnos: "All enemy armor eliminated, sir. Enemy soldiers remain in control of command center. Airspace is secure. Awaiting further instructions."

"Hound-91, mission objectives achieved," Cernunnos's voice crackled through my comms, devoid of any satisfaction or praise. “Return to station immediately for debriefing and maintenance check."

"Acknowledged, sir," I responded automatically, while inwardly I longed to stay just a little longer, to savor the destruction I'd wrought. The neural link translated my reluctance into a slight hesitation in Kerberos's systems, a momentary lag that only I would notice.

"Ground personnel are inbound with data extraction teams," Cernunnos continued, his tone suggesting he'd noted my hesitation. "Clear the area to avoid any friendly fire incidents."

I didn’t bristle at the barely concealed insult, the implication that I couldn't distinguish between targets. It flowed off me like water. "Returning to base, sir."

I engaged Kerberos's main thrusters, the mech's massive frame lifting off with a grace that belied her size. The compression fluid surrounding me shifted with the change in orientation, always maintaining optimal pressure around my body. I ascended slowly at first, allowing Kerberos's sensors to capture a panoramic view of the destruction below.

The forest burned in patches where debris had ignited the alien vegetation, the flames creating strange patterns as they encountered the bioluminescent flora. The lavender sky was stained with black smoke, rising in thick columns that marked each kill like a memorial. Not that the rebels deserved memorials. They were vermin to be exterminated, nothing more.

I angled Kerberos upward, deployed the wings again, and pushed the thrusters back to forty percent, accelerating away from the surface. The mech responded instantly, cutting through the atmosphere with all the predatory efficiency of a falcon on old Earth. Through the neural link, I felt a slight vibration in my forward left knee joint—minor damage from that single missile hit, barely worth noting. Kerberos had emerged essentially unscathed, exactly as expected when facing such inferior opposition.

The sensation of breaking through Elysium's atmosphere came as a sudden absence—the resistance simply disappeared, replaced by the frictionless void of space. The compression fluid surrounding me adjusted automatically, compensating for the change in external pressure.

As I set course for the Ka Corporation space station, my mind replayed the battle, analyzing each engagement with cold precision. I had been able to unleash myself. Kerberos had responded perfectly to all commands, the neural link maintaining 99.8% synchronization throughout combat operations.

And yet, I felt... unsatisfied.

The rebels had been pathetic—outdated equipment, predictable tactics, minimal skill. Slaughtering them had been like crushing insects. Where was the challenge? Where was the test of my capabilities? Surely they hadn’t made someone like me and Kerberos for this?

The space station appeared in my field of view, growing larger as I approached. The massive structure hung in orbit around Elysium like a mechanical parasite, its angular form a stark contrast to the organic curves of the planet below. Solar arrays extended like metallic wings, gathering energy from the system's yellow star… Those arrays were large enough to cast a notable shadow on the world below. Docking bays dotted its surface, their massive doors currently sealed against the vacuum of space.

"Hound-91 approaching station, requesting docking clearance," I transmitted, following protocol despite there being no chance they weren’t expecting me.

"Clearance granted," came the immediate response from station control. "Proceed to Bay Seven for docking sequence."

I adjusted Kerberos's approach vector, aligning with the designated bay. The massive doors began to slide apart, revealing the illuminated interior. Guidance lights activated along the approach path, a redundant system meant for human pilots with their inferior reaction times and spatial awareness.

The transition from space to the docking bay's artificial environment brought a subtle shift in Kerberos's handling. The mech's sensors detected the gradual repressurization of the bay, adjusting thruster output down automatically. I guided Kerberos to the designated docking clamp with millimeter precision, the massive feet touching down on the marked landing zone with barely a sound.

"Docking successful, sir," I reported, the words empty and mechanical. "Awaiting shutdown authorization."

"Shutdown authorized," Cernunnos replied. "Complete post-mission diagnostics on Cerberus. Audio channels open until you report in."

There was a sharp hiss in my ear, and then my world filled with sound. With my hearing restricted to vibrations severe enough to transmit through the compression fluid and audio signals for so long, I hadn’t realized how much sound was all around me. It was shocking to realize how silent my world had been until it abruptly wasn’t anymore.

I did as my handler commanded. Final systems checks were completed, and I uploaded to Mission Control. Weapons had performed at 99.2% efficiency, slightly above expected parameters. Propulsion systems showed minimal stress despite the high-G maneuvers I'd executed. Armor integrity remained at 97%, with only superficial damage to the left leg and right shoulder plating. All systems were still green.

I initiated the shutdown sequence, feeling Kerberos's systems begin to power down around me. The neural link began to disengage, the connection between my augmented mind and the mech's artificial intelligence gradually fading. It felt like losing a part of myself, like being diminished, returning to the limited confines of my mere human form. The link disconnected completely and, for just a moment, I felt a loss of even my weak sense of self—my awareness shrinking, my senses dulling, my power diminishing. I wanted to cry, but found that I couldn’t. That made sense… tears would interfere with the visor, and there wouldn’t be a way for me to wipe my eyes clean.

The cockpit systems began to drain the compression fluid, the amber-tinted liquid receding slowly around me. When it dropped below my respirator mask, I disengaged the seal, taking my first breath of recycled station air. It tasted flat and sterile after the oxygen-rich mixture I'd been breathing.

The cockpit hatch opened with a pneumatic hiss, exposing me to the climate-controlled environment of the docking bay. Technicians were already approaching, their tools ready to begin the post-mission maintenance. They would check every system, every joint, every weapon—though there was little for them to repair this time. Kerberos had barely been tested.

I unstrapped from the shock chair, my movements precise despite the pleasant muscle fatigue. The chair released me with reluctance. For a moment, I allowed my fingers to linger on the controls—the last physical connection to Kerberos until our next mission. Then the metal door swung upward and exposed me to the harsh white lights and recycled air of the hangar.

The noise hit me immediately—technicians calling to each other, diagnostic equipment humming, maintenance drones whirring as they move between tasks. It was faint, felt through vibrations mostly, but after the focused silence of the compression fluid, the cacophony felt deafening.

Below, the technicians were already swarming toward Kerberos like scavengers approaching a carcass. White jumpsuits with the Ka Corporation logo emblazoned across the back, tools clutched in pale hands that have never known combat, never crushed an enemy's throat or felt the recoil of a rail cannon translated through a neural link. Technicians. Mechanics. Support staff.

Necessary parasites.

I climbed down the access ladder, and my boots hit the gantry with a metallic clang that echoed through the vast bay. I stood for a moment, looking up at Kerberos's imposing frame. Even powered down, she radiated lethal potential. The black armor still held the heat of atmospheric entry, creating a barely visible distortion in the air around it. The rail cannons were silent now, their magnetic accelerators cooling after the repeated discharges. The laser blade had retracted into its housing, hidden but ready to deploy at a moment's notice.

This hadn't been a battle. It had been an execution, a demonstration of overwhelming force against an inferior enemy. I could feel no pride in such an easy victory, no satisfaction in killing opponents who never had a chance. Hopefully, the rebel Fenrir units would deploy. That might present an actual challenge—a worthy test of my capabilities and talent.

For the moment, however, I had to report for debriefing. I turned away from Kerberos and strode toward the bay exit, my skin-tight suit still damp from the compression fluid. I crossed the hangar, the sleek black material of my suit emitting soft squeaks with each step. Droplets of compression fluid continued to cling to the fabric, leaving a faint trail on the polished floor. The liquid carried a distinctive odor—antiseptic with a hint of metal—that marked me as different, as other. Regular humans never immersed themselves in compression fluid. Regular humans never merged their consciousness with fifteen meters of weaponized destruction.

Regular humans were weak.

The technicians gave me a wide berth as I passed, averting their eyes or suddenly finding urgent tasks to attend to. Only the senior mechanics dared to watch me directly, and even they knew better than to approach.

My enhanced hearing picked up their whispers as I went by.

"Barely a scratch on Kerberos..."

"...took out the entire rebel outpost..."

"...perfect synchronization rate..."

"...fucking terrifying..."

One of them was in my path, a clipboard clutched to his chest like a shield. Young and probably new to the station, he tried to shy out of my way… and dropped the clipboard, right into my path. Unthinking, he bent down to pick it up.

It hit me all at once. The sight of the mechanic bent over, weak and pathetic… It overwhelmed me with sudden annoyance that swelled into pure hatred. These useless parasites were crawling all over my body, invading it with their pale, fragile hands. Like Cernunnos invaded my head, like he sank into my thoughts and interrupted my one purpose. I had one role… to kill for the Ka Corporation, and he was robbing me of the enjoyment from even that. The frustration and fury I'd felt since waking the first time in his white room and needing to submit had finally found an outlet, and I felt it blaze through me with the power of a thousand fusion torches. More than anything, in that one moment, I hated him. I hated him and the entire worthless crew of vermin he infected my mech with.

I didn't make a conscious decision; I didn't need to. My body reacted faster than thought. The young mechanic was a perfect target, right there in front of me, easy to hurt. My muscles obeyed instincts he could not begin to comprehend, instincts that no one on this station could. My augmented limbs moved without hesitation, bringing the entirety of my strength to bear on his unprotected form. I kicked out hard, the soft squeak of my fluid-soaked suit masking the force of my movement. My foot connected with his stomach, a dull thud that seemed to echo through my entire body. He bent around the impact, his breath leaving him in a sharp exhale that was almost a scream.

He flew backward, lifted off the ground by the sheer power of my strike. It took only an instant for him to fly over the railing and tumble down to the catwalk below. He hit with a crash and a groan that was barely audible over the noise I'd just created. Four meters down, his body lay sprawled, twitching, his white jumpsuit stained with dirt and maybe blood. The other technicians stood frozen, their eyes wide as they stared at me like I was a monster.

The rage that had consumed me subsided as quickly as it had come. I wondered what the staring mechanics saw in my uncaring posture, my featureless face, the visor that hid whatever scraps of a soul I still had. I scanned the room once more, evaluating for threats and finding none. No one here was worth my time.

I resumed my walk, my heartbeat gradually returning to its normal, steady rhythm. Behind me, another technician rushed to the fallen man's side. "Idiot," I heard him shout, loud enough for his words to reach me clearly even through my muffled world. "What were you thinking? That bitch is unstable as hell."

Unstable? I did not feel unstable. I felt powerful. I felt alive. They would not understand. Their awe meant nothing to me, and neither did their fear. They were equipment, just like the tools they wielded. They were useful only for maintaining Kerberos between my real work.

I reached the massive airlock doors that separated the hangar from the rest of the station. My palm print activated the scanner; the system recognized not only my handprint but the unique electrical signature of my augmentations. The doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the sterile white corridor beyond.

As I stepped through, I felt the artificial gravity fluctuate slightly—a minor discrepancy between the hangar and corridor systems that most humans would not have noticed. My enhanced vestibular system registered the change instantaneously, my muscles making microscopic adjustments to maintain perfect balance. It was another reminder of what I was—neither fully human nor fully machine, but something superior to both.

The doors closed behind me, cutting off the sounds of the hangar. The relative silence was a relief, as it allowed my augmented senses to recalibrate. The combat high still throbbed through my system, my body flush with endorphins and adrenaline, my mind replaying kill after kill in perfect recall. Twenty-seven Manticores. Sixteen Harpies. Not one survivor.

I was a weapon waiting to be fired again. Everything else was meaningless.

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