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 SDD Comics Presents: Solus Ortis

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Ocean Seven
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PostSubject: SDD Comics Presents: Solus Ortis   Mon Oct 25, 2010 3:35 pm

Solus Ortis is a One-Shot that spawned a multitude of new concepts for the One Man War Universe. The name was taken from a mission in Ace Combat Zero: The Belkan War. The best concept it spawned was the introduction of the 49th Terror Corps, a second Terror Corps to the 13th, but one with different motives and operational orders. (The 13th is far, far worse then the 49th.)

The point-form notes at the beginning are there to remind me of the events before the main run- Solus Ortis is yet another one of my dream-driven stories, and I can't remember everything clearly in a way to write it out word for word.

Some information: The C-13 is the main airborne attack platform of the Veľká Oslobodzovacia Armáda, once a small SLovak army, now a huge global army.

The names of Mars' moons are weapons; CV stands for 'Carrier Vehicle' a fancypants way of saying Aircraft Carrier



------------------
Solus Ortis
A One-Shot by SDD Comics

-Armada of C-13’s inbound to 53rd MCOH Firebase 1 (Note: Armada consists of 300 Wings, which are 10 C-13’s each.)
-Backed by 200 MiG-29 ‘Fulcrum’ fighters.

-Task Force 243 is called in to deploy their Dactyl Super Paladins.
-The four CV’s, Corona, Vital, Signal and Near end up dropping their dual Mars Rail Cannons and switch to the thirty-two strong Phobos/Demois short-range Paladin Cannons.
-The flagship Ida has dual ship-length Dactyls.
-Intense battle as the Armada’s decoy flight of 60 Su-32’s keep Task Force 243 busy
-Task Force 243 ends up duping the Su-32’s and after tricking them into fleeing a mass of mini missiles, obliderates 58 of them with their H-SAAMs. (Hyper-Sonic Air-to-Air Missiles; Average speed is Mach 5.3-7.2)
-One of the remaining pilots, one Douglas McDonnel engages in a freak argument with his high command as to why the hell he should keep trying to deter the fleet
-Douglas, after hearing the C-13 pilots comment on a huge tank-like object, has a flashback to Cario, 2164.
-- the New Africa Anti-Government Force (NAAGF) successfully captures Cario, and solidifies its hold on Africa. However, during the celebration, their enemies arrive…

Cario, 2164

The city of Cario is reverberating with the cheers of the New Africa Anti-Government Forces, who have just liberated it. Most people are inside from fear, but the symphatizers are joining in the ruckus alongside the troops. Sitting on a bench out of the way are two men, a sergeant and a corporal.

“Jesus, we’re supposed to be one of the most organized forces on the planet, and yet here we are in complete disarray, mingling with the civvies.” The sergeant complained.

“Oh cut them some slack Douglas, we just liberated an entire continent. Let them have some fun before we get bogged down in all the political mumbo-jumbo.” The corporal reasoned.

“Regardless, we should at least be keeping SOME form of order in this mess. And that’s Sgt. McDonnel to you. We aren’t retired yet, corporal.” Douglas pressed.

“So uptight, jeez. Loosen up a little, how can you seriously sit there all proper-like when everyone is having the time of their lives. We never get breaks, and its not healthy to live like you have been.” The corporal muttered.

“I’ll take a break when we know we’re safe thank you very much.”

“Whatever, just don’t expect that to happen if everyone starts acting like you. Now if you don’t mind me, I’m gonna go find Boa and see what he’s up to.” The corporal sighed, getting up to go find his buddy.

Just when the Douglas thought the noise could climb no higher, three tremendous thunderclaps reverberated throughout the city.

Jumping two feet in the air, Douglas turned in the direction of the boom.

“Jesus fuck, that had better not be someone setting off the ordinance.”

Settling back down, Douglas heard dozens of faint hums, as if the entire army suddenly started firing miniguns in unison.

Getting up to go find the source, Douglas caught the tail end of a huge plume of fire rising in the air.

“What the hell-”

But before he could do anything else he heard the famillar whiz of bullets, followed by the plop of bullets cratering the earth. Few in numbers at first, before anyone could even guess where they came from the sound tripled in volume, and the number of impacts rose a thousand-fold. The cheering instantly turned into screams as left and right people were literally cut down by countless bullets. It only got worse as more and more fell thicker and faster, until it was quite literally raining bullets, dirt and blood. Douglas heard someone start screaming in his ear and he turned to tell him to shut up, but when he looked over, whoever or whatever was next to him was lying in pieces. The screaming didn’t let up, and as Douglas looked around to find whoever it was he realized it was himself. In a matter of twenty seconds, the streets were flowing with the blood of countless. Household animals wandered out into the chaos, undaunted, to see what the ruckus was. A chicken, spotting something like a worm, bent down to pick it up and has its neck severed. The torso started flailing until it was bowled over when a dune hog took fifteen rounds to the gut and exploded in a shower of flesh and blood. Supressing his subconscious fear, Douglas finally got himself to shut up after a minute. When he finally stopped, he heard another noise. A faint whine, growing fainter by the second. He didn’t have ten seconds to figure out what it was before the smoke-laden sky was cleaved by three gigantic twisting holes. The whine stopped growing fainter and instead grew more apparent. Looking up at the sky, the twisting plume of smoke answered the question of what the whine was. In the three seconds it took Douglas to scream “GET DOWN!” the whine had risen exponentially, and turned into a deep rumble. Confused at what exactly Douglas was saying, several dozen people raised their heads to catch it when he yelled it again.

But it never came.

Before he could take another breath, the volume of the rumble made its final increase, to a deafening roar, causing several people’s eardrums to explode from the volume and air pressure of the falling object. A split second later, the city of Cario experienced the largest conventional man-made explosion in history as three fifty-ton high explosive artillery shells slammed into the ground. Anyone not already in severe pain or deaf was instantly subjected to the loudest explosion in history. Everyone in the middle of the city was mercifully vaporized in an instant, no matter how much wall they were behind. This merciful death spread out to the outer middle of the city for everyone in the open, and not behind sufficient cover. Those in cellars in the middle ring were either crushed as the heavier, more durable houses that survived the wall of air fell on top of them, or in the case of the flimsy ones, fried alive. Those on the outskirts were not so lucky. In the open, you were either burned alive or had a thick wave of heat pass through you. Those in houses had it even worse. Those with windows facing the center had no way of expelling the heat, and anything that would combust, combusted, including humans. Even if you survived that, the sheer pressure in the closed-circuit house blew the back out, but mot before crushing the front, either squashing people or sending them careening out the back. (Where they would get crushed a split-second later by the debris created from the front wall blowing in.) Only those behind decent cover at the very edge- such as Douglas, behind row upon row of house and the ancient wall that surrounded the city- survived the blast. Even so, they were battered by flying debris, sandblasted and buried under a rising wave of sand.

After the blast was over, the survivours thought it was over, until the air stabilized and the rain of bullets resumed. Two minutes later the bullets stopped, and everything fell silent, save for the blood curtling screams of people pinned under huge chunks of wall. Douglas lay there, completely dazed, his world spinning endlessly before him. He managed to get up on all fours with exhausted effort, only to heave the contents of his thoroughly-battered stomach, and black out. He came to fifteen minutes later being dragged upright by the corporal.

“Welcome back to the land of the living. How was your vacation in hell?” the corporal said, offering a pained grin.

His instincts kicking in, Douglas was able to shakily stand up on his own. Shaking out the lingering dizziness in his head, and fighting the splitting headache, he turned to the corporal.

“Oh man what the hell happened? All I remember is the shower of bullets and the split second before those shells hit. I thought we had the area secure.”

The adrenalin quickily fading, Douglar nearly fell flat on his face before the corporal caught him.

“Whoa there man, careful, careful. It would be best to rest up before you return to hell. As for what happened, I’m not so sure. All I know is that they shot from well beyond the secure area.”
“Well that’s a given, but what’s all this about going back to hell? I don’t feel anything missing.”

“Well it isn’t so much that we’re going back to hell as it is that hell is coming to greet us.”

“I reiterate- what the hell are you saying.”

“Take a look for yourself.” The corporal said, nodding behind them.

“Oh. Shit.”

“I second that statement.”

Behind them, three gigantic walking juggernauts were walking through the demolished city. The corporal surmised that the things had to be at least fifteen hundred feet tall, but even though he was still loopy, his depth sense shot, in extreme pain, and a little dumbed down because of the whole fiasco, Douglas knew exactly what they were.

Standing thirteen hundred fifty-eight feet tall, with a width of four hundred feet and a useable length of twice that, a top speed of sixteen miles per hour using its six gigantic legs or thirty-two on its leg-mounted treads. (The thing assumes a stable position, lowers itself to the ground as four rows of five heavy-duty struts hold it above the ground as it folds its legs under itself, which have covered treads inside them.) With a capacity of over forty thousand bodies, and an active crew of slightly over six hundred, it had a small city inside of the main troop/cargo area to provide ameneties for its long journeys. There was no certain weight figure, as it was created to be easily interchanged with weapons, but the weight range was presumed to be between two thousand tons and four thousand. (A very wild range, as there are rumors of experimental weaponry weighing close to fourteen hundred tons.) Despite its varying loadouts, the most commonly seen variant (which is actually a small group of modifications on the variant) was the one currently trampling Cario- the GRC-013 A-Type Juggernaut, aka “Lumbering Tiger”. Painted a dark indigo and weighing in at 2,300 tons, the GRC-013 embodies the very image of terror. Built, like almost all else by BA Military Tech, to be self-sufficient, operating alone for half an eternity, they were the mainstay of the 49th Terror Corps. These specific ones, Douglas knew, were not any ordinary GRC-013’s though. They were GRC-013-‘666’ A-Type ‘Juggerdevils’, nicknamed Hellbringers or Spirits of Hades. Rather then strictly direct-fire artillery units with defensive armaments, the Hellbringers were retrofitted with a 270/90 angular control mechamism rather then the standard 90/20. (270 is its horizontal sweep area, and 90 is its vertical elevation area.) He also knew that this meant they were not viable for desert ops because of the massive weights that had to be inserted in the legs to keep it from toppling over if it tried firing perpendicular to its body. Douglas laughed at the irony of such a high-tech, deadly piece of equipment having to use such a low-tech mass distribution system. But he could not help but give the 49th credit for actually gaining speed by using the system, rather then loosing speed because of its bulk, not to mention the leg weights.

Douglas whipped back to reality. He failed to suppress a mighty shiver as he recalled its armament. Its main firepower came from the huge, 800-ton single smoothbore physical cannon it carried. With a muzzle diameter of almost 20 feet, the GTC-88 (Global Targeting Cannon version 88) was capable of lobbing any explosive gravity bomb ever created by man, including the devastating 50-ton High Explosive Shell, nicknamed ‘Instant Genocide’, the 30-ton ‘Noodle Nape’ Napalm Shell, and, with a few minor fixes and reduced range, the newly-designed 200-ton ‘Noggin’ Nuke’ Nuclear Earthquake Bomb. Equipped with the best Fire Control System (FCS) money can buy, it could theoreticially lob a Mk.1 ‘Little Boy’ nuclear bomb twice around the world- if the bomb didn’t explode in the muzzle. (The raw power of the exact moment the firing solution ignites, the groundburst sensors on the Mk.1 would think it hit something and detonate. At least, if it could actually survive the explosion of the firing solution- which is twice that of the Mk.1’s explosion itself if it were to release outside the muzzle.) He then recalled the rain of bullets, and nearly heaved again. The eight huge clusters of vertical-firing RGT-50 Vulcan Cannons which ran along either side of the body, had a cyclic rate of over two hundred thousand rounds per minute. Officially named ‘Mach Infinity’, they had become known as ‘Flesh Graders’. Because of their fixed mount they were rejected as useful weapons when ground troops became combat-inneffective because they were frozen in terror at the sheer horror of what happened when someone got hit by a dozen of them, but the 49th Terror Corps revived the psychological monsters and refitted them with a 360-degree mount. The 49th has taken an obscene attraction to them, going so far as to reduce their storage area to hold just 4,000 troops, and filling in the cut space entirely with RGT-50 rounds, enabling it to lay waste to any given area for up to half an hour- usually enough to level even metal buildings.

As the GTC-88’s opened up with another salvo, Douglas remembered the one truly terrifying feature of the Hellbringers- their gunners were handpicked to provide 100% accuracy on a target the size of a thumbtack. The 49th‘s vocabulary had no such phrase as ‘complete fucking overkill’ in it, and would fire off the huge ‘Instant Genocide’ shells at single targets- even if that target was a wounded soldier in an open field. They would actually prioritize smaller groups over larger groups, single targets over squads. Their insanity knew no limits, and there were constant reports of them firing ordinance off at nothing in particular, even during the middle of a skirmish. They were heartless cats, and everyone else was a pathetic mouse to toy with. On the rare occasions that did not totally level a city, they would loose their troops on the city. Rumored to be packed in like pigs in complete darkness for weeks on end, the cities that ransacked never returned to normal- if anyone was even left alive. Although no proof exists, it is almost certain the troops are so crazed from cabin fever that they feel no pain and show no fear whatsoever. Stories exist of single soldiers, shot full of lead charging barricades and tanks unarmed. More frightening, is that more times then not, these soldiers are seen multiple times- and their victims are not. When, for the first time in history, the 49th attacked a city and didn’t completely slaughter everyone, it was discovered that they had abducted every female in the city. Douglas remembered two more such reports, one of them happening just across the pond in France, one week earlier.


With a rush of adrenalin, Douglas remembered what the report had detailed about the attack in France- and why the needed to get the hell out of there, fast.

“Corporal!” Douglas yelled over the noise of a half-second burst from one of the Vulcans

“Yeah?”

“We need to get the hell out of here, now!”

“No, you think? What do you think we’re doing right now? Having a nice stroll?”

“No, I mean we needed to get out of here an hour ago.”

“Well, we appear to still be here. Got any plans Einstein?”

“Cut the shit corporal. You remember the report on the attack in France?”

“I do now, thank you very much. I was trying to forget that.”

“Well this is the same group.”

“So?”

“You remember what it said about what happened when the army came?”

“I was kinda heaving a lung out at the time, but yes I do. What of it?”

“You’re thinking of the wrong part. Remember lower, specificially, three lines lower.”

“Huh? All there was, was a-” the corporal stopped abruptly, his pupils almost engulfing his eyes.

“Yeah. Now if you’d like to be around to see it second-hand rather then experiencing it first-hand, I suggest you start running.”

Douglas, the adrenalin pumping like no tomorrow and a hearty reason to live, let go of the corporal, and with some initial effort, stood up and started booking it alongside the now blanched corporal.


* * * * *





The flashback of the Cario Incident ends, and Douglas is whipped back to reality as he grips the stick and narrowly avoids a flack shell.

“This is Coronet Tiger to Bastion, get the hell out of there!”

“This is Bastion, Coronet Tiger, what the hell are you talking about? It’s just one of those GCR-013’s. And those guns aren’t even going to reach this far.”

“I reinerate: get the FUCK out of there! Those aren’t ordinary ‘Tigers, those are Hellbringers!”

“So? Even if they’ve got moveable Vulcans, they’d be hard pressed to hit us, even with their FCS.”

“Wait, they send in an Armada of C-13’s piloted by… by… NUGGETS?!?” Douglas exclaimed, completely dumbfounded. Then he realized why.

“I see now… they know there is a high threat of a Hellbringer in the staging area, so they send in a huge flight of nuggets so in the event there is one, they don’t loose any valuable pilots…”

“Uh, there was never a ‘thought’ about one being here- we were briefed.”

“That just increases the irony. Regardless, this is a suicide run.”

“No it isn’t, so long as that fleet down there doesn’t bear guns at us. We’re cleared all the way in. Not a blip on the radar to be seen, and no empty returns either, so don’t go saying there could be stealth units.”

“I’m not talking about the fleet or the airspace- they were both decoys. The 49th never works with other units.”

“49th? You mean that Terror Corps. unit?”

“Exactly. Why else would a Hellbringer be here? Clearly, they didn’t tell you that only the 49th Terror Corps. use Hellbringers.”

“Alright, it’s a little freaky knowing those creeps are here, but we’re not in any danger.”

“Oh it’s quite the contrary, you’re well in range of the weapon that is going to do you all in. You’ve been in range ever since you penetrated Canadian airspace. They’ve been watching this whole damn time!”

“You say we’re in danger, yet provide no proof!”

“I see Command is working the same as any other military force… They never tell the frontline people the bad news. If you knew that the Hellbringers here are carrying the-”

“Command to Bastion, continue your mission as planned. The fleet has ceased movement towards you, and all triple-A sites between you and the target, except the target itself, have been disabled.”

“Tell them what’s on the Hellbringer!”

“I repeat, continue your mission. Although we have confirmed it is in fact a Hellbringer, there is no danger unless you linger and it catches up to you.”

“They have a right to know why they’re about to get blasted out of the sky!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Coro-”

“Tell them about the ADRX-001!”

“The what?” one of the C-13 pilots cut in.

“The ADRX-001! The Arma-” but Douglas was muted.

“I repeat, there is no hinderanc-”

“Did he just say Arma-?”

“He is experiencing a case of false memories from his time as a PoW. He believes the enemy propaganda about an impossible WMD, now cont-”

“Arma-? Arma… Arma… Ar-!”

The C-13 pilot nearly had a heart attack over the radio.

“The ADRX-001 Armageddon!”

“There is no such-”

“Major Cross told me all about a weapon of horrifying potential used during the liberation celebration at Cario two years ago! Now I see what Coronet Tiger was warning us about! This really is a suicide mission!”

“What’s the Armageddon?”

“Yeah, it sounds like propaganda.”

“I’m not kidding you! Major Cross is the Head of Weapons Intel! What reason would he have to make something like this up?”

“Yeah, Major Cross wouldn’t do that…”

“The Armageddon is not real. Major Cross was ordered to spread the word about its falsehood, and it appears that out friend here heard wrong. Continue with the-”

“Can it Command! We’re turning back weather you like it or not. Actually, I have half a mind to lower my landing gear, turn on my lights and surrender right here and now!”

“Hey if Victor here is gonna do it, I’m followin’ him.”

“Yeah! We thought we’d be informed of any risks. If they had told us about Armageddon, it would have changed everything.”

“Exactly, now you see why we did not.”

“Not an excuse. You underestimate our resolve. We were ready to do anything to liberate the world, even die in a ball of fire. But if you only tell us AFTER we’re up in the air, it doesn’t have the same effect. All it looks like is that Tiger said- a suicide mission.”

“Psychology tests show that-”

“Science be damned! The human mind is too complex to be understood! You have to prove that we would have backed out, and now that I think of it, if you had told us about it, the worst we would have done was throw ourselves at the Hellbringer rather then one fucking triple-A site you can’t seem to disable.”

“It’s-”

“Shut up! I don’t care what the fuck it is, you need to think about the soldiers before yourself! Maybe its some sort of defended bunker with officers in it. Even if it is, what threat does even fifty armed officers pose? Armageddon could wipe out more people faster then any fucking military operation coordinated by officers. And in case you haven’t noticed, the soldiers there seem to be working pretty fucking well in squads, without orders thanks to the cowardly attack on Lenningrad. Hell, they seem to be doing BETTER without the officers then with!”

“Even if you surrender, the 49th doesn’t take prisoners. Even informants.”

“Regardless, you sure as hell won’t have succeeded with this operation. And at this point, that’s all that matters. C’mon guys. ”

“Jettison your weapons! Dump all the ammo, and anything that is explosive!” Douglas yelled, having broken the jammer.
“But we’re going to-”

“Thank your lucky stars we’ve got the safest weapons on the planet so we don’t ever have premature explosions of collateral damage! The 49th‘s clearly under a loose order in that they can’t loose the Armageddon fully because of the proximity to the residential area! I can tell because it hasn’t emitted the telltale red light, and isn’t fully locked down. It’s going to only use the intense ultraviolet and infared heat wave in its sub-detection form to detonate all the explosives onboard. I think its safe to assume that it isn’t going to ignite the fuel, because they know C-13’s run on special fuel designed to linger and pollute when ignited out of the ignition chamber. Get everything offloaded ASAP, and you might just be able to offer up the weapons- this mode is directional-only, so if they fall far enough, it won’t hit them.”

_________________

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"I am Forgotten. I am a Defender of Humanity. I risk my very existence every moment of every day, of every week, of every month, of every year. History will be grateful for what I have done, but history will not know who I am, or what I did. I will not be remembered by anyone, anywhere. When I pass on, nobody will know who I was. I live to block the deadly fragments of a grenade; to take a bullet meant for another; to be in harm's way, so that another will not. I exist for the sole purpose of dying. But for what? This is my life, for all it is worth. I am Forgotten."

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