The forces of the Expedition and its allies line both sides of the canal. On the eastern edge the mechanized armor divisions of the Knights Templar from both the Winged Citadel and Expedition City share space with a brigade of Silent-Ones Lawbringer Titans and just further back a squadron of open-frame-and-canvas ultralight aircraft from the Imperial Fireflies, specialized in aerial firebombing.
On the western side of the canal, the Titans from the Winged Citadel form the first line of defense, armed with rocket-lances and trailing lines of superconductor down into the canal river far below. Holes have been blasted into the cliffs of the canal on both sides, so that engineers could pack them with explosives. The engineers have retreated, as the enemy can now be seen through the dust cloud kicked up by its movement: the daikaiju Tesla, the spines on its back arcing with electric bolts that often react to with the dust to create spectacular electric-fan and plasma displays.
While the Titans get ready to attack whatever areas of vulnerability they can, two other Titans stand on the opposite side of the canal. One is a metal-armored bio-mechanoid, wearing a harness covered in sticky rubber balls. The other a ceramic-alloy Gryphon, the only flying Titan still operational on the planet. Both of them are being deployed for 'close in' combat, their unique structures making them less susceptible to the electrified defenses of the monster.
Settled in to the cockpit of the ceramic-armored Titan is Tasha, it's pilot by happenstance and, perhaps, by fate. "There it is," she thinks to her machine as she watches the walking stormcloud lumber ever closer. "What do you think of it? Any last minute observations?"
"/My combat simulators are geared towards Titan on Titan combat,/" /Melchior/ admits. "I will be depending on you to lead. Are there any emergency situations where you would wish me to take control? I promise that I will not panic as I did when encountering the giant aliens at the volcano./"
Next to the Gryphon, Vastille assumes a sprinter's launch posture.
"We're both prone to panicking, aren't we? Use your best judgement. We'll focus on slowing it down; attacking its motility will help us more here than trying to go for lethal damage, a lot like the last one. If we can wound its legs, then it'll be that much easier for the linear cannon to hit it." Tasha answers, her head tilting to the side as she studies the machine. After a few seconds she purses her muzzle, clearly thinking on something, then adds suddenly, "And don't sacrifice yourself for me. I don't want to hear anything more about 'being built for sacrifice.' My order is that you should survive."
Shifting in her forward-laying position, Tasha grips the backup control surfaces. A backup measure, in reality it's the neural tattoos reading her muscle movement that are controlling the machine, in addition to her mind. The machine moves along with her, readying for flight.
"That would require my pilot to survive as well, for without you I am an inert machine," Melchior points out. And then the artillery barrage begins. Tasha can feel it, even inside the cockpit, as a hundred cannons open fire. The dust and debris are enough to actually hide Tesla for a moment, while the command is given to switch to non-explosive rounds for the next volley. The giant beast roars in annoyance.
"Hey Red," a squeaky voice comes over the radio, already crackling from Tesla's interference. "We go after the third volley, get ready!" Villem informs her.
"Then you'll just have to do that. We'll talk more about that later, if we make it. About that, the Titanians, and other things. For now, let's focusing on survival." A number of screens pop up in Tasha's mind: the operational map and unit distribution (semi-inaccurate due to minimal data exchange between units), a live display of Tesla and the bioroid, a countdown timer, communications windows, and a telemetry and targeting data feed window. She doesn't need anything to know the status of her machine; that, she feels directly. "Understood. We are ready. Good luck to you, sir." "Captain, Chief Engineer: the operation has begun. ETA to Gryphon launch: 1 minute. ETA to intercept: 4 minutes."
The next two volleys are somewhat quieter, in that only the firing makes noise. The slugs hit the daikaiju, and if they do any damage it's impossible to tell at this distance. "Titans sortie! Fireflies launch!" Frane commands during the lull that follows. Villem 'whoops' and Vastille runs full-tilt towards the edge of the canyon, leaping up at the last moment and sprouting fragile-looking wings as the oversized vents on the back of the Confederate Titan belch flame.
The Melchior Gryphon is right behind the bioroid, slowing to allow its comrade time to get altitude and begin to change course before it reaches the cliffside. Like its partner, the black-and-gold machine leaps off the ledge, its wings and tail fan extending as its air-breathing engines roar to full power. "Keep me updated on power consumption and the quality of targeting data. I will focus on immediate combat."
"Once we have expended the fuel needed for the incindiary assault, we will assess, then enter combat through an insertion path directly to the side, to minimize risk from the head and tail," the Melchior's pilot concludes.
"If we do not use the stator overly much we can conserve power significantly," Melchior notes. Of course, in practice this means minimal inertial dampening and rougher acceleration. The Gryphon soars over the Confederate Titan, which can only use its jump-jets in short bursts, although it seems that it won't have any issue clearing the canal at least. "I will inform you when to release the thermal devices to strike the target's face."
"Thank you, Mel. Keep an eye on the Vastille too, he's more vulnerable than we are. We'll reserve stator usage from when we move in for close-ranged combat, and for emergency evasion. I'll try to stick to conservative flight manuvers until we are ready to charge." And then it's just more waiting. Tasha watches their enemy close, reviewing her tactics over and over.
The face of Tesla gets bigger.. and bigger. Tasha can see its eyes now (there are six), and several sets of nostrils that seems to open and close asynchronously. Two of those eyes are staring up at the approaching Melchior, but the beast doesn't seem to be reacting in any way beyond that. Maybe it only likes to eat grounded Titans. Or fried ones. "Drop on three. The disruption should cover Vastille's approach," Melchior notes, and begins his countdown.
Deciding to leave conversing for after the drop, Tasha shifts in her seat, tensing. It's not necessary for accuracy -- she can release with mental commands -- but it makes her feel ready.
3 ... 2 ... 1 ...
"Dropping." The barrels desscend from the metal giant, down towards their target.
There's a splash as the first barrel impacts, and an explosion as the second one gets zapped, which is enough to set it all aflame. A burning patch glows on Tesla's face, and now Melchior is past the skull-crest and over the beast's back, where the lightning is more severe.
The great machine begins to ascend to avoid the worst of the electrical storm, its pilot seeing no need to take needless risks. "We'll circle in an oval pattern across its center, making wide loops to either side. This will minimize our time over the target and give us maximum time to change course for attack charge." The flight path appears in Tasha's mind over the battlefield as the little icons all begin to move, each a unit, real people risking their lives. For a moment, the pilot finds herself wondering at how so many people can be reduced to such simple numbers.
One of those icons is leaping like a caffeinated grasshopper (which may be what it's actually based on originally). Vastille used the firebombing to leap over Tesla's head onto the neck, and is now setting its 'duster' charges. The skirmish line of Titan lancers is still ahead, just out of range of their weapons.
For now, the Melchior settles in to its course, its pilot leaning back and folding her arms against her chest as she watches the battlefield. A part of her wishes she still had the Balthasar -- the battle would have been over by now. No deaths. No losses. What's done is done, she reminds herself, feeling foolish for the thought as she returns to watching the battlefield.
There's a sudden /jerk/ and sense of acceleration, as /Melchior/ dodges what seems to be a small hill swinging at them from behind - but it's just the cudgel-end of Tesla's /tail/. "/At that size, and using normal nerve conduction speeds, it is impossible for Tesla to be controlling all of its limbs from the head-brain. I suggest there are several sub-brains along the spine, possibly with their own sensory systems," /Melchior/ warns. So much for 'blinding' the beast.
"I will pass that on. A shame they're probably not targetable in any meaningful way." "Radio, operation command: Command, target assessment indicates a high possibility that Tesla does not utilize a single brain, but multiple brains likely scattered along its spine. Observed reaction time is estimated by onboard AI to impossible for a single, frontal brain in the head."
"Fireflies, lay a fire-line down that thing's entire spine as soon as Vastille is clear," Frane responds on the open channel. "Red, continue with hobbling maneuvers. If we can melt down to the spine, switch to trying to sever the spinal cord."
It says something as to Tasha's repeated exposure to deadly scenarios that she simply watches the tail sail past with a detached, analytical eye -- her familiarity with her machine and fighting experience putting the chance of impact in to the negiligable range. She briefly considers this, well after the evasion.
"Roger that command. We are making our charge in 15." Tasha leans forward again, settling in -- except this time, it's for safety. "Prepare stators, run one last check on all close combat systems. We will charge in ten seconds after I am done reviewing tactics: we will proceed to the frontmost leg and time our arrival for its rearward movement, keeping us as far out of the frontal cone as possible. Once we have completed disabling that leg, we will proceed to the next in line until we reach the last. Should we disable that as well, we will withdraw and circle to the other side for the same procedure. Tactics may change in response to battlefield conditions. Charging in ten seconds."
"I'm clear," Vastille reports. "Duster charge detonation in twenty seconds!" "We are sSssstarting our run," the Naga lead-pilot for the fireflies announces as well.
"Gryphon charging," the strangely calm, digitized voice of Tasha reports. Tucking its wings, the Melchior begins descending rapidly. "Stators go. High-G deceleration in five, four, three ... "
Inertia begins to behave oddly. For Tasha, things seem to pass by slowly outside of the Titan, when in fact she is operating at in an accelerated inertial reference frame. It does allow for a good view of everything happening though. She sees the dusters detonate, releasing their chaff across the behemoth's back. High about, impossibly fragile looking aircraft drop their bombs, which burst into sprays of glowing thermite that rain down on the monster. She can feel her hands vibrate, biofeedback indicating that the shaard has reached its fully energized state. And then up ahead, the ponderously moving limb of Tesla, sprouting a dozen tree-trunk thick toes, as well as having a heavily padded underside.
Even linked to her machine, Tasha can feel the anticipation. Taste it. That mix of excitement and fear that comes to her just before blades meet. The shaard is raised, ready, as the Melchior rapidly breaks before touching down. It's only seconds away, and even less in normal time, but it feels like an hour as the pilot waits for her chance to strike.
The foot sweeps back and rises, toes curling in to prepare for the forward step. There's a shudder, and a burst of static as the thermite strikes and the chaff causes a short circuit of sorts. The plasma sensors on Tasha's display spike - somewhere overhead there's one hell of a superheated plasma burning. Enough to cause Tesla to flinch.
The pilot of Melchior doesn't have much time to considerate, despite the time distortion. She focuses on the cut: how to get the most from the fewest strikes, and where. Angling the shaard, the obsidian-and-gold steps forward and strikes!
There are two cuts, heavy and in rapid succession, each at diagonal angles aimed at the thinnest part of the leg. The first is downward, the second a flick of giant's arm up, both stopping at the same depth; a wedge shapped gouge, a tree-felling cut Tasha learned from years of chopping trees for The Rake while it hovered overhead, deep in the wilderness. Cut right, and let the weight do your work. I remember, Eyeshine.
It isn't clear how effective the wound is, since Melchior is still moving away now. The stator is throttled back, so that time flows normally again. There is a horrible roar from the monster, as the attack fully hits home. The front limb swings forward, then down.. and buckles! Tesla stumbles. While its back is still burning from the thermite, and its defensive lightning is diverted, the command comes over the radio, "Explosive rounds, fire! Titans get clear!"
The Melchior hops backwards, twisting in the air and landing in the opposite direction before its engines flare to life, the machine speeding away across the dust. "Check dust intake. How are we looking?"
In Tasha's mind, she can see the beast rapidly shrink in the distance. As it shrieks and trembles, a part of her can't help but feel sorry for it. She frowns, remind herself a city trembles as well, and that some things need to die -- another lesson, this one taught to her by a very different teacher. Another monster, from the same red world.
There's a rumble of thunder as the explosive shells bombard the creature, hiding it in dust and smoke once more. Another volley is fired, but this time only half the shells make it, the others being detonated by lightning bolts bursting through the cloud.
"All eastern units prepare for counter-attack! Chaff-blowers, that's your cue!" Frane yells through the radio static. "There is a massive electrical field forming," Melchior warns.
Tasha doesn't hesitate. "Radio, general operation: Melchior to all units, be advised: a massive EM field forming in Tesla's vicinity."
Through the cloud of dust and smoke, Tesla's head pushes through. Its mouth is gaping, looking inflated. The inner surfaces are covered in teeth! And massive amounts of electricity flash between them, solidifying and combining into constant arcs that focus at the center, building up a giant ball of plasma. Tasha has seen ball lightning plenty of times - anyone on an airship crew is bound to. But this ball is big enough to engulf the Rake!
Tasha's eyes widen as the massive plasma ball fills her mind, its stunning immensity causing her to lean her head back despite only being an image projected in her mind. She watches it for split second, focus then shifting to the operational map. "Trajectory??"
"Shut down your radios, retract all antennae until after the discharge!" Frane warns, before the static becomes overwhelming. "Lightning rods.." the rest is lost. "It is going to be launched over the canal," Melchior reports, and the tactical display shows a cone representing the possible impact zone. "There is no way of telling if it will travel true or when the plasma will breach the containment field. Internal temperature is approaching 5000 degrees, pressure cannot be calculated. Suggest landing and ducking down."
With radios down, there's no way for Tasha to pass on the information. Feeling quite helpless she guides the Melchior to the ground, moving it towards a large rock formation which it takes cover behind, though at a distance to prevent the rocks from simply trapping it. The machine then ducks, its pilot watching on as the massive, sun-like light grows ever brighter ...
"It's terrifying," Tasha murmurs to her AI. "Why does an animal need such a thing? It's not going after the nearest threat -- it's making a decision to attack the rear formation, maybe even the base and HQ!"
Like a comet, the ball of plasma flies over the canal. When it hits the cloud of chaff, it looks the air above the artillery lines ignites into a storm of flame and lightning. There are a lot of ground strikes and explosions, hopefully of expendable lightning rods and power sinks. The horrible maw of Tesla closes, and the creature seems.. sluggish.. after the attack.
"It's over extended itself. Stators ready, we are renewing our attack. Lets go!" The dust around the black machine rolls away in clouds. Its pilot, heart racing, wondering if her comrades survive, pushes her machine forward. It's several seconds before she can get ahold of herself to consider a plan. "Record its charge up and firing. If it fires again, calculate time until necessary charge and continue to calculate for every shot," she orders, checking the time. There's one otehr thing that bothers her; She frowns, then adds: "All frequencies, all known languages, including technical, and if you have data on Abaddon's method of communication to devices, try to emulate that too. Target: Tesla. Question: "What do you want?""
While Melchior tries to communicate, Tasha finds she isn't the only one rushing to attack. The Winged Citadel Titans are on the move as well, trailing their grounding lines and preparing to launch their rocket-lances. One them spares a hand to sign towards Tasha, "Check back."
Switching to another camera view, Tasha observes the tail, angling the machine's flight to get a better look. "I might be overhtinking this, it may just be reacting to the noise of the artillery. But maybe not. It's worth a try. Prioritize evasion and combat over communication if necessary."
The tail is on the ground, unmoving. The undamaged legs seem to be working to raise the creature up though, and its back.. looks exposed. Several of the spikes are melted, and some of the thermite is still burning down through the meter-thick armor. But there are exposed areas, where fluid (hard to tell if it's blood) is pooling or flowing. There might even be exposed bone - if bone looked like a chromed spongy material. But what's showing resembles a vertebra at least.
"Hrrm," goes Tasha, uncertain of what she's seeing and thus finding tactical assessment problematic. She eyes the tailm wondering if it could strike the back in a pinch. "I'm thinking we should divert to try and severe the tail, however, it's not much of an immediate threat and possibly not a future one if our units stay out of its arc. However, we we assault the back, it may try to crush us in a desperation move using the tail. What do you think?"
"Parts of the spine are exposed," Meclhior assesses. "We may be able to strike deep enough to sever control structures. It would not paralyze the creature, but it would disrupt communications between the sub-brains."
"We'll risk it then. Cutting the tail would require a significant time investment when it's not an immediate or possibly not even a future threat. Any attack against us would be telegraphed, allowing significant evasion time. The Lawbringers know to avoid certain arcs." Changing direction again, the Melchior heads towards the back, using the same procedure as before. "Radio, general operation: Melchior charging, attempting to severe control structure organics along the spine."
"All units, status report!" Frane's voice crackles. "Artillery, prepare mixed barrage on Melchior's signal, target the spine! Forward Titans, secure the jaw!"
"Melchior status nominal, energy reserve is still in the green," Tasha reports automatically, even as her eyes narrow as they stoop towards their target. "Any luck on communication?"
"The creature is producing plenty of radio noise, but I do not discern any coherent pattern," the Titan replies, just as there's a jostle of impact from landing near the spinal wound. There are still plenty of sparks of electricity shooting off in the area, causing more static.
"Keep trying, maybe we'll get lucky or at least confuse it. I'll proceed as planned, otherwise." The black avian machine makes a careful step closer, then anotehr as Tasha becomes more certain about its footing. "Any danger from the discharges?" She inquires as both shaards halves are brought back.
"The shaard is insulated, so we should be able to handle any high voltages encountered within the spine," Melchior replies. "External discharges are low power and no threat at this time. Power output from the creature has decreased considerably."
"Resting, I suppose. Well, no rest on a battlefield ... " Tasha turns the shards so that their blades face upwards, then the Titan steps forward and uses its weight to help drive a dual, thrusting stab straight in to one side of the spine. Once the blades are buried, Tasha edges the Titan forward in another half step, pulling the shaards through the ground and then free up in to the air, the twin blades exiting in a shower of sparks and gore. "I think I might be getting used to this," she notes, finding the process strangely automatic, distand and directed like painting: artful, directed strokes across a canvas as she paints her imagination in blood.
The effect of the cuts makes itself apparent, as every limb behind them starts to lash about - the tail and rear set of legs! The legs are actually starting to push Tesla forward all on their own.
"Radio, command: Melchior reporting damage to spine, results inconclusive and forward movement increasing. Orders?" Tasha doesn't stop attacking as she awaits direction. The shaard blades rise and fall, now striking assymetrically as she carves swaths of spinal column, spine chunks rising in to the air as the twin blades cut in beautiful upward arcs.
"Pull back, we're going to bombard the wound," Frane replies.
"Roger command." Yanking free from the last strike, Tasha turns her Titan outward as the engines ignite.
Almost as soon as she is clear, the incendiary and explosive shells begin to strike. The accuracy is pretty decent, and shows that at least some of the artillery survived the plasma attack. Unfortunately it does nothing to stop the rear limbs from continuing on autopilot. Tesla seems to realize something is wrong, as its middle pair begins to move as well, pushing it towards the edge of the canal. At the front, the lancers have lodged their harpoons into the creature's lower jaw, and are pulling on the attached lines to try and keep the mouth pointed downwards.
Tasha directs her own machine to persue, but maintains its oval pattern that runs between the head and the rear. "It should end up in the canal soon. How's our energy reserves looking for the distraction and targeting phase?"
"We are at 63%," Melchior reports. Down below, the lightning is starting back up again, causing some of the Titans to pull back - but the cables attached to the launched lances are also acting to ground some of the charge. The rear legs of Tesla are still churning madly, kicking up huge gouts of red soil. The middle ones are still struggling to get going, and the remaining functional forelimb is firmly planted still.
"It's only a matter of time before it realizes it can only go forward," Tasha reasons as she watches the wounded beast. "We'll conserve our energy for our part, and stick to data gathering for the time being. I'll see if command has any idea to be sure." "Radio, command: Melchior to command, confirm: maintain holding pattern until bait and strike phase?"
"It looks like Tesla is going into the canal no matter what now," Frane confirms. "What is the status of the big gun?"
"Holding to confirm." "Satcom, Bellerophon: Chief Engineer, status of the weapon?"
"Tasha, how big is the target, roughly?" Fred asks after the connection goes through.
"Want to get that, Mel?" Tasha asks as she sits upm taking a moment to rub her face and stretch while she can.
"Length is 437 standard feet, width 112, center of mass approximately 120 feet from front," the Titan reports. To which Fred replies, "Damn, was hoping it was bigger. We'll need some reference points for in-flight corrections, you'll have to stay on station as long as possible, Tasha, even with Harmonia giving us parallax data. You would not believe what we've had to do to make this work! We'll be at full firing charge in four more minutes."
"Roger that. Thank you for your hard work, Fred. I will report that to command." Tasha flops back down, scratching her nose a moment before settling her hand in to the grips. "Command: four minutes until firing capacity. I will need to remain on station for as long as possible, in order to gain accurate targeting data. We advise that other units cease their engagement during that time to ensure the target's attention is on the Melchior, and to ensure maximum distancing time."
"Plan B is ready," Frane replies. "Forward Titans, release grounding lines and let the bastard plow over the cliff. Retreat to recovery zone A. As long as we keep the target in the canal, we'll have shielding from the impact shockwave. All mobile stations begin withdrawal. Fireflies, you need to come home."
"Command: Awaiting interception order," Tasha notes to show that her machine is ready. The Melchior's flight course is changed, the oval becomes tighter to either side and wider towards the head, in anticipation of the various approach vectors -- including towards the head itself. "Not long now, Mel. We'll try to stick to either side of the head out of its firing arcs, but, it barely noticed us before -- we may have to do something more drastic, like stand infront of it, or even try to land on its head and use the engines to maintain positional stability. It can't miss us if we're stabbing it right infront of its eyes. We'll need to mind sudden movements from the head and frontal legs, however."
"Perhaps a stopping strike from the side against the head, either at the eyes or below and to the front of them," the young woman continues, frowning as she studies her target.
With the Titans releasing the cables, Tesla seems to realize it is being driven forward. The front limbs engage, and the massive creature lumbers out-of-sync towards the canal.. and flops over the cliff, falling twice its body length to flop onto its back. The river begins to back up against the dam created by the body. There's no command given, but the upper sides of the cliffs erupt as the explosives are triggered, sending tons of rock down atop the daikaiju.
"Pulling back to safety positions," Frane calls over the radio. "Bring the boom, Red."
"Roger." Breaking from its holding pattern, the Melchior dives towards its upended target, its hands reassebling the shaard in to a single unit for increase stability. "Stators, prepare for high-g deceleration. Lets set strike the head as we set down, then turn and wait a moment moment so it can spot us. Be ready for a retalitory strike from any or all of its limbs."
As the black machine closes, it drops down in to the canal itself, skimming a good sixty feet above the water before angling down towards the head. The shaard is held for deep striking, but for Tasha the actual damage is less important than how annoying the attack might be. She thinks a moment, then nods. The Melchior speeds downward, arm back, its blade ready for a passing strike -- and then it's time! In a fly-by attack, the great machine aims to slice across the creature's nose!
Things turn to a crawl again. The monster is struggling, limbs flailing to send avalanches of debris down its sides as it tries to dig out. It's belly is just as heavily armored as its back, and also discharging bolts of electricity. The head hasn't fully come clear yet - it may not even be able to tilt it 'down' enough. "Linked and locked, give the word Tasha," Fred calls over the com, just as the shaard slices through.. well, what might be the lower lip, since the nose isn't quite exposed yet.
The /Melchior/ sets down nearby, its back to the enemy -- even its shaard would be of little consequence against the creature's massive limbs, so the machine's pilot forgoes blocking and parrying options for movement. "/Holding position, I will remain on site until you give the word,/" she warns even as she sends across the general operational radio frequency. "/All units: inter-atmospheric linear railgun has fired. ETA to impact: 7 minutes. All units, clear the blast zone by then. I repeat ... "
"Fire."
"Holy crap!" Fred reports a few moments later. "I hope we didn't just break the base.. course refinements in 5 minutes, once we're out of shadow."
Tesla barely notices the brush across its chin, as it is still busy trying to free itself from the rubble - and right itself, given that the back half literally has a mind of its own at the moment. The tail is bringing down even more of the cliff as it lashes about randomly.
Tasha's easrs slowly lay back as she waits; between Fred's outburst, being the only unit before the massive, nigh-invincible Tesla, and standing at ground zero of a massive artillery strike, her stress levels rise like the cannon shot. After a few seconds more, she grits her teeth. "Well. Here we are again. Just you, me, a terrifying enemy and world-ending weapons." She sounds tense; Melchior can feel her emotions rise as her hackles do the same. "I'm going to need a drink after this."
"Please try to remain calm," Melchior urges. Tesla gets one of its forearms free (the mangled one) and begins scraping way some of the rock. Tons of it cascade into the flooding river, and the monster roars to indicate that its head is free and that it is not happy.
"/Oh, I'm fine. I'm fine,/" Tasha assures her AI, her fingers tapping along the grips despite her words. "/I can stay here /all day.//" The /Melchior's head turns as Tasha pans her camera view, giving the machine the look of a brawler glancing back as its opponent starts to rise from an apparent defeat.
When the beast roars, Tasha's ears flick. "Well, serves him -- her? -- it right for not trying to talk things out, right Mel?"
"Emergency evasion.." Melchior replies, and Tasha feels yanked around. There's just a blur of movement in her displays.. and then another jarring shake! "It is difficult to predict the tail movements," the AI notes apologetically.
"I'll owe you an apology later for saying the tail was probably harmless, if we survive," Tasha admits as she pulls herself back in to her command chair and tightens her grip this time rather than fidget. "The shaard, it's not much use here, is it? Do you think we can severe the tail like with the first one? The tail section is considerably thicker, but if we can severe it so it breaks off and flies wide before impact?"
"It is not a slow moving target," Melchior notes. "We would need to employ full mass, or augmented mass via the stator, which would mean moving slower. We would have to try for muscle damage versus severing, it is simply too thick."
"Ah. Well, I got that part right at least. Continue to focus on evasion. Lets ... " Tasha takes a deep breath, focusing on the beast and watching the tail. She then nots the time and comes to a decision. "Lets not take any chances. Full depth, release emergency acceleration gel."
At full depth, at least, Tasha doesn't feel the incompressible liquid filling the cockpit. It also makes her realize just how big Tesla is in relation to Melchior. The Forbidden Zone creatures were larger, but they were distant, not up close and glaring at her. It's a bit like facing Caspar alone. The foliage of the canal isn't like a swamp.. or like anything familiar, really, but the idea of being seen as prey certainly hits the Vartan.
"I might be smaller, but I've killed scarier things than you," the Melchior warns its enemy. In the inhumanly fast speeds of full depth, Tasha has a lot of time to consider her words. Part self-reassurance, part threat, and part bating tactic, she has a lot of time to contimplate the nuance of insults as she watches the creature move in relative slow motion. Even the machine's spoken words are slow as they are spoken at normal speed. In between thoughts on the nature and composition of cutting remarks, Tasha keeps a careful eye on the creature's extremities, and on the clock, which now moves slower than ever.
All seven limbs are free and flailing now, as the Tesla tries to twist itself over onto its belly. The lightning bolts are getting more intense.. angrier. And the monster growls.
"/Terminate communication attempt; terminate non-essential communications including satelite uplink to Gabriel and Harmonia, maintain communication with /Bellerophon,/" Tasha commands, while outside the /Melchior's/ shaardless hand reaches out, upturns, then extends its middle finger making a very specific gesture she learned during her time on Abaddon.
Whether the gesture or the intent behind it is recognized, it earns Tasha a boulder thrown (or catapulted at random) by one of Tesla's arms. The beast is almost on its side now.
The Melchior leaps aside, its jets firing to increase the distance as it sails to land on the opposite side of the river. The pilot watches as her machine arcs through the air, the boulder approaching in slow -- yet still relatively rapid -- speed. "We should have tried Sign, don't you think?"
Emeshed in the bubble of full depth, Tasha's emotions are subdued, in particular distracting ones like fear. And thus she watches the rock approach with something approximating amusement, although even that is weaker than it otherwise might be.
"I assumed that is what you were attempting," Melchior notes, as the boulder is evaded. Tesla's lightning bolts are setting fire to the plants of the canal, while its shifting body finally moves enough for the backed up river to burst through, causing a flood that moves more rubble around. The angry kaiju certainly seems to be focused on Melchior now.
"I notice we appear to attract a lot of beings with firey abilities, it must be divine retribution for my faithlessness. In fairness, my faith did attempt to murder me, or at least a reasonable approximation did. By the way, don't you wish we could do that?" The upturned arm, still upturned as its movement was not necessary to evading, rotates again, this time shaking its finger at the beast. "//Balthasar created atmospheric condesning plasma explosions, Caspar had a plasma-based cannon, the Themis-Skoll had one too. Abaddon had fire, and this one has lightning. It seems like everyone tosses around thermal and EM weaponry besides us. I think they're trying to make us jealous." Despite it sounding like a ramble, Melchior can feel tasha calming down steadily due to the effects of full depth. Her observation appearing to be a extension of that, a casual remark to steady the mind.
"We have not been defeated," Melchior points out, just as Tesla twists his neck and head to face the Titan, and opens his mouth as if about to ready another plasma ball - but instead shoots out a toothed tongue like a rotbiter, which is actually fast enough (and long enough) to hit Melchior! Of course, at full depth, to Tasha it seems like a toothy rope has just struck her in the gut.
Tasha recoils in the cockpit in a soundless expression of pain, bent forward at the waist releasing the last bubbles of trapped air from her lungs. "Damage report," she orders after she recovers, a motion made considerably faster by full depth. "Shaard activate." Reaching through the murky chemical, the pilot makes a slashing motion as her machine attempts to do the same to the sticky tongue!
"Minor impact dam-" Melchior begins to relate, and then the electric charge hits. It momentarily overwhelms the insulation, causing a skip as the Titan is forced into emergency stator dampening for a few seconds, dispersing the incoming energy by accelerating the flow of time over which it happens - but that also means Tesla can whip the Magi around easily, since it seems to weigh less as a result. And instead of trying to smash the machine against the walls, the kaiju starts pulling its tongue back in, intent on eating Melchior!
Melchior's first attempt at a strike goes wide, its pilot's aim thrown off by the sudden jerk in to the air and the distortsions in her percieved time. As the machine is thrown about, Tasha, floating in the gel, feels her body shift only slightly; Her body free, but her mind locked in the struggle for survival. With her machine's stability radically compromised, Tasha focuses on trying to get the machine released while attempting to regain some measure of purchase, the Titan's blade flailing at the tongue as the lack of stability makes a proper swing difficult!
The electrified tongue seems to resist the shaard at first, but this is because the weapon itself had a power fluctuation from the initial over-surge. As it regains its power, the vibrating blade cuts into the tongue. Tesla is forced to let go of the Titan before it's properly in its mouth, but it does lunge and bite anyway, but still short by a few feet.
An alarm is going off in Tasha's head as well.. the 2 minutes-to-impact warning.
The Titan makes an undignified scramble across the ground, a back-scooting the churns up vegetation and causes several small fires from proximity to the hot engines. "Two minutes," she repeats, head tilting as she urges her machine back to its feet. "Did that surge effect energy levels?" The machine turns to face its enemy, edging away with the shaard held forward in a defensive position.
"We have some capacitor damage," Melchior reports. "Effective power at 32% until rerouting is complete. We cannot safely employ the stator again at this time. I advise retreat."
"Bellerophon: Is retreat an option at this time?" Though stator effect is lost, Tasha at least has the accelerted viewpoint of a machine, thanks to full depth. She keeps the shaard's blade active as she moves the Melchior backward, keeping both forward and rear cameras in mind as she holds the blade ready to attempt to intercept another tongue attack.
"Final course corrections have been made, Tasha," Fred reports. "Try to keep the target from moving too far, and get out."
"Please send notification when withdrawing is acceptable -- a quick warning is best." With little else to do but backstep, hold their weapon, and wait, Tasha's mental focus and world narrows to these three things. Her sword, escape, and most of all, time. It's a singular experience for the woman, like standing upon a razor above a pit of spikes. The sense of imminence, of emmence of moment is profound.
Tesla pauses, as Melchior retreats. It then looks upwards, along the talus slope from the collapsed cliff.. and begins to claw that way as best it can. It's hind-end is still now, at least.
"Good bye, Tesla." Without further delay, the Melchior spins around, its engines igniting and throwing dirt and debris wide as she starts in to a run, then leaps in to the air. "Stator?"
The monster ignores the Titan, intent on getting out of the canal, even though it isn't having luck finding purchase on what's left of the cliff, especially with half of its bulk being dead weight.
"Stator function is not recommended," Melchior reiterates. "We have power for maximum thrust, and the gel should protect you, but we must regroup for transport before our reserves are exhausted."
With stator power uncertain, tasha forgoes the original plan of a straight-line trajectory escape. Instead, she sticks to the canal, knowing that it curves up ahead and hoping the impact will be at least somewhat dampened by the intervening walls. "Maximum thrust." As the young woman guides her machine away she briefly remembers the blue sky and long canyons the Melchior took her to, finding it fitting that they might die together in much the same place.
"30 seconds to impact," Melchior reports. "We should gain altitude, the shockwave will be more focused within the canal."
Tasha notes her mistake, storing it away in her mind to addresss later as sghe angles the Titan towards the sky. "Do you have a prefered altitude?"
"50 miles would be preferred," Melchior admits. "500 feet and to the east or west is practical however."
"We'll head east towards the city, that will put us closer to emergency support." True to her word, Tasha directs her machine higher, angling towards the east. "Course set. Disengage full depth." There's a pause, and then, "Not much time for last words, huh? Did you know, we're the same?" She asks as one by one, unneeded displays wink out in her mind, until only the front and rear cameras are operating.
"Delicious?" Melchior asks, before the world turns upside down. There's no warning of the hyper-velocity spear, just a flash and a shockwave. For a moment the ground jumps, and the flying Titan is struck by a hammer of air. The automatic systems keep it from crashing though, but the various warnings and alarms let Tasha know that the breathable goo surrounding her is the only thing that prevented her from becoming goo.
Despite the buffering, Tasha can feel the impact through her neural connection. Her floating form convulses under the feedback of the body-wide impact, giving her sense of being crushed without the wounds to show for it. Stunned, it takes her second to recover, her shaking form pulling in to a ball in the floating dark. The blaring alarms, red flashing screens, and general sensory overload take her a second more to sort out, but at last she asks, "Melchior? Damage report?"
Needing to get a hold of the aircraft -- and dreading the silence that follows her question -- Tasha pushes herself to assure the Titan is still going to be airworthy in the next few minutes as she resumes guiding it.
"We had sufficient altitude to avoid damage," Melchior reports. "Eastern rendezvous zone is in range. Should I set a course for that?"
"Oh, good ... Good ... " Tasha reaches over and pats the chamber wall, smiling to herself. "Why don't you rest a while? I'll handle the landing. Setting course for the eastern rendezvous zone."
"ETA is five minutes. Do want all open communications restored?" Melchior asks.
The great machine changes course, angling through the sky as it heads for home. "Resume communication uplinks if possible, she confirms. "Radio, command: Melchior to command, we are inbound eastern rendezvous point. Energy reserves minimal. Confirm target destruction?" "Satcom, Bellerophon: Standby confirm target destruction."
"Too much debris for visual confirmation," Frane replies. "There's a half-mile wide crater though."
"Roger that, I'll save my recommendations for what to name it for after we land." Tasha briefly considers contacting the others, but decides her job isn't yet done. The target might still be alive, but whether it is or isn't, she's played her part for now. Though she's heading back, she isn't heading to rest. Not yet.