Sigma/Star

Chapter 48: The Cave Part 2

"We have a sighting sir!" Marian looked up from the various displays to view the commotion going on in the hallway. It was an enemy general that was causing such a disturbance. This would mark the first time one had shown up, meaning the war was escalating. This was a common pattern for the many battles that occurred between the four nations; there was the tentative combat of entire armies colliding with one another before one side or the other gave in to releasing a field-clearing general and from there the war broke down into a series of skirmishes and minor strategic choices.

This was why the Brigadier General had already deployed his first in Scoly, because no master strategist would watch someone like Marian obliterate a warship and not want to send a message in response. It would be an interesting fight coming up as two lower-tier specialists fought one another. Marian hadn't been in the last war when the Enian Federation had allied with the Artisans and so he wasn't familiar with their higher-level soldiers but he was confident in Scoly and his capabilities. He had a fierceness in his heart, a burning desire to survive and go home and that was usually uncrushable.

Marian leaned back in his chair and folded his hands together. For the moment, he had nothing to do but watch what would happen. The peons would wage war around the two generals but ultimately it would come down to who was the victor between them because either could push the tide of the battle in their nation's favour. For now, Marian would observe.

* * * * *

Scoly's battlesuit was already trying to scan and analyze the approaching enemy. Like most Artisan crafts it was of a very sleek and rounded design. The Artisans preferred a more artistic approach to their Goliaths and it was always something the people of the Enian Federation mocked openly. Goliaths were never about artistry and creative design; they were instruments of war and of the will of Saint Ishiyama. Scoly murmured another prayer as a thought of his lord crossed into his mind, asking for help in the coming battle and in the scanning of the enemy.

But the analysis proved futile. As the Fervent Prayer drew close to its foe it slowed to a stop. The rest of the army moved past, opening fire and breaking down into smaller units that took up their strategic positions and began following orders from their individual officers. Scoly's Artisan counterpart had paused as well and the two entered a staredown. While the Fervent Prayer was unable to scan the enemy, probably because of some jammer it had, he could still view it physically and try to understand.

This enemy was a much thinner design than the average, looking almost like a human replica and not like the bulkier versions that everyone else was fighting with. Its long, graceful legs thinned to near-points at the tips and rose up into hips that flared out past the joints, with armour that rose and curled in design even though the leg had already connected to the torso. While the arms were thin and long they ended in two hands with elongated fingers and an apparatus on each wrist that looked like a large bracelet. The head was rounded instead of the typical block, with large, opal eyes that consumed much of the face and seemed to suck in the environment around it. It had a rosy pink hue to its gleaming armour and a deep red finish along the edges.

From the Goliath's right wrist device a red glow erupted before a thin blade of pink energy spurted out, its tip extending just beyond the end of the battlesuit's fingers. "Request permission to engage sir." Scoly reported directly to Marian. Normally generals didn't have to consult the higher command but the first engagement was always tentative and so Scoly preferred getting confirmation.

"Granted," came the reply without pause.

Scoly opened up his communication network to a public broadcast so as to speak to his foe. It was common practice to talk during combat in an effort to extract information for higher powers to dissect and Scoly also preferred to know his opponent as he beat them, rather than simply crushing faceless goons. Every pilot was a person inside that armour. They too had a life they lived before they stepped into the warmachine and one they would return to afterwards. Scoly's eyes flicked over to the picture of his girlfriend hanging above him and he sighed.