2 Fire and Liberty
Chapter 2 –
The control deck of the 'Wings of Liberty' was a controlled buzz of activity.
A1 leaned back on the wall, the rush of adrenaline still lingering in his veins, as he worked on acquiring a new Rapid Launch System for his Super Destroyer 'Mother of Democracy'.
"A1, you look like a constipated bile spitter.," F2's voice crackled from the next station over. Always one for blunt honesty, she never failed to cut through his reverie. "Something buzzing in that head of yours?"
He forced a smile and turned his helmet slightly to eye her figure in the dim light.
F2 was an unrelenting ball of energy, quick to anger, quicker to laugh. "Just the usual post-mission jitters," he deflected. "And...well, the unexpected guests we brought back."
"Don't worry about them, the boys from The Ministry of Truth are on them now, they'll be taken care of on that moon base of theirs. We'll have answers soon enough - maybe even find out what they were doing stuck in that clanker-infested nightmare."
She had a point.
Super Earth's finest minds would be dissecting the cultural, linguistic, and possibly technological scraps they'd gathered.
They'd find the truth, as they always did.
Silence stretched between them for a while, the hum of the Super Destroyer a white noise backdrop to their unspoken thoughts. It was F2 who broke it, her tone unexpectedly shifting gears.
"Say, A1, where are you from? Back on Super Earth, I mean?"
He blinked, the question catching him off guard. "Prosperity City. Grew up in the heart of it all." It was an automatic response, the familiar ache of a memory tugging at him.
F2 whistled, a low note of respect. "The capital, huh? Fancy. I'm Mega City 7, Sector 7 myself. Not as glamorous, but full of fighters, that much is for damn sure."
"Ever been to Super Stone Park?" he asked.
Curiosity spurred him on.
They were Helldivers, bound by duty and blood, yet they knew so little of each other's lives beyond the battlefield.
Something flickered in F2's helmet – surprise, maybe a touch of nostalgia. "Yeah. The place was a riot, so lush with beautiful trees, and the geysers were amazing, that's for sure. Went there plenty...before." Her voice trailed off, then she cleared her throat. "Actually, the last place I visited before enlisting was Super Stone. Funny thing is, I'd just gotten my hands on my M2016 Constitution – hell, I was so hyped I could barely hold the thing steady."
He chuckled. "Bet you learned quick."
Her grin was almost feral. "That day, yeah. Remember when the broadcasts cut in? The ones about Severin Sector under attack by clankers? I was there that day, just turned sixteen. I saw... saw what those automatons can do on the broadcast at the SuperStar in the park. And I was holding that rifle... Knew right then and there what I had to do. Never been prouder of holding Super Earth steel, not before, not since." Then, with a self-deprecating laugh, she added, "Well, 'cept for maybe taking down my first tank-buster..."
A new respect bloomed in A1's chest.
This woman, this Helldiver, was made of sterner stuff than most.
A steaming mug materialized in F2's hand. "Tea?" she offered.
A corner of A1's mouth lifted under his helmet.
His fingers found the release for his straw module, the familiar clicking as it extended reassuringly familiar at the base of his helmet.
He accepted the mug, the warmth spreading pleasantly through his gloved hands. "Nothing better than a nice cup of Liber-TEA, after a good mission" he said, amusement in his voice. "You have good taste."
F2 grinned, taking a swig from her own steaming mug. "I was a Coffee girl, born and bred, before Helldiving." She took another thoughtful sip. "But after all this time on the automaton front…well, Liber-TEA just feels right. Something about kicking clanker ass then raising a mug to freedom, you know?"
A1 chuckled into his straw. "Back in Prosperity City, it's basically a staple food. I had my first cup before I could even walk,." He took a sip, savoring the warmth and familiar, mildly spiced flavor. Then, emboldened, he tilted his head slightly. "So, where were you deployed before this?"
F2 leaned back, a contemplative look replacing the usual intensity. "Mostly answering the call on the automaton front. Started in Severin Sector, it was one clusterfuck after another," she mused. "Got in a few scraps on the bug hunts, but clankers...they're special kinda evil. Makes your blood run colder, somehow."
"Malevelon Creek, isn't that in the Severin Sector?" A1 murmured, the name a grim reminder of the Automaton brutality. "Did you ever..."
"Nah," F2 cut in with a shake of her head, "But our V3, now there's a legend for you. One of the first boots on the ground when that counterattack went down." A hint of awe edged her usual gruffness.
The man himself was down in the bay, on a rendezvous with the pilot of Eagle-1, while T4 took some down time in the cryopod awaiting their next briefing.
They planned to stick together for the remainder of the coming operation.
The hum of the Super Destroyer settled into a comfortable rhythm around them, punctuated by an occasional flurry of comms chatter. Deployment wasn't far off – the massive fleet had arrived hours ago, and they could sense the gears shifting into motion. The rescued refugees were safe on Sol Beta's moon, their stories being tirelessly investigated by the Ministry of Truth. Meanwhile, ships buzzed in and out of the 'Wings of Liberty', ferrying supplies to re-arm them with the munitions and stratagems for a full-scale operation.
"High Command won't keep us on standby long," A1 remarked, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "I'm restless already. Those clankers back on that hellish planet…they've got payback coming."
F2 echoed the sentiment with a fierce nod. "Damn right. Seeing those folks…they didn't deserve that twisted nightmare." She paused, then added in a lower voice, "Never thought I'd see the day clankers reared their ugly heads again. Severin, that was a shock to the whole damn family." A flicker of something dark crossed her eyes – a mix of old fear and simmering vengeance. "Grandpa was a Helldiver back in the day, in the Cyborg Wars, a century ago. Retook Cyberstan, gave his life for real freedom. We all thought, hoped, those commie bastards were done with after that."
A1 could feel his respect for her deepen further. "Managed Democracy is stronger because of families like yours," he offered, sincerity warming his voice. "Mine…well, Mom was SEDF, keeps the peace back home. And my old man, he was Ministry of Science. Nerdy type, brilliant, but I'm definitely a grunt like you."
F2 let out a rumbling laugh. "That's where you get the cute nerd brain, huh? Explains a lot."
A1 sputtered slightly, feeling a warmth spread under his helmet that wasn't just from the Liber-TEA. He scratched the side of his helmet awkwardly, taking another sip to cover his flustered grin.
Her tone softened, and F2 leaned forward. "My grandpa died a Helldiver on Cyberstan in the first Galactic War almost a century ago. Dad…he was proud as hell, wanted to follow in his footsteps. But by the time he was old enough, the war was won. He went into Element 710 extraction for SEAF, instead. Mom was proud of him, though he didn't believe it. She raised me on stories of his service actually."
A1 felt admiration bubble in his chest for the Helldiver before him.
Her shoulders then squared, she said resolutely placing a comforting gloved hand on his own "Whatever those clankers cooked up down there, we're gonna shut it down. We will end this commie threat once and for all, the last embers of the Automaton menace will forever be extinguished, I will see to it personally if I have to!"
The deck lights pulsed a frantic yellow, cutting through the hum of the Super Destroyer.
Ship Captain Leahy's voice, crisp and authoritative, echoed through the comms "Democracy Officer requests all Helldivers to the bridge immediately!"
"Finally!" F2 tossed her empty mug aside, the clang echoing briefly in the sudden urgency. "Those clankers aren't gonna pay themselves back!"
A1 mirrored her grin, adrenaline spiking. "You ready for round two, sweetheart?" he teased, the word rolling off his tongue with a playful smirk.
Just then, V3 emerged from the hangar bay, the faint scent of engine grease clinging to him. Whatever he'd been doing with Eagle-1's pilot, it hadn't dulled his focus one bit. He nodded a curt greeting, then fell into step beside A1.
T4, revitalized after his stint in cryo, stomped out of his pod with a booming "Let's do this!" A meaty high-five landed on A1's shoulder, nearly knocking him off balance.
F2, with a playful shove of her own, interjected, "Hey, save some of that enthusiasm for the bugs, big guy!" The corner of her mouth twitched upward – with T4 in the mix, things were never dull.
As they turned towards the bridge, V3, with his knack for cutting to the chase, asked, "Think they'll drop us right back into that mess?"
"Hope so," A1 replied. "Got unfinished business on that rock."
As one, they moved with a familiar rhythm towards the bridge.
Their capes fluttered in their wake, a proud display of shared purpose. The bridge beckoned them, the light from the Holotable called on them awaiting their next mission.
Democracy Officer Martin awaited, his posture as severe as the task that no doubt was laid out before them.
Martin's salute was crisp, his features set in grim determination. "Liberty Squad," he acknowledged, "your actions on that planet exposed more than just another hive. The reports from the boys in the ministry have been…enlightening. This next mission carries more weight than usual."
A tense silence stretched before Martin continued. "Our interrogations of the civilian refugees from the planet," his voice lowered, each word heavy with implications, "revealed something unprecedented. Terros is inhabited solely by humans."
The bridge seemed to tilt under A1's feet.
Only Super Earth was supposed to exist as a bastion of humanity. He shot a glance at his squadmates, their shock mirrored in their tense postures.
Martin pressed on, "Terros was a Cyborg target during the first Galactic War, a possible planet to regroup and retreat. Their scouts landed near the settlement named Valyria, the very same island that your previous mission took you to."
"The data decrypted from the terminal revealed that the damned cyborgs had plans to use the local human population as fodder to conscript in their war. But when our forces repelled them from the galaxy, they were cut off from this sector entirely. It seems a remnant survived, rebuilding their forces in the shadows." He paused, as if weighing his next words. "Their heirs, the Automatons, have continued their vile legacy on this distant world, and countless others, here beyond the rims of our known galaxy."
A wave of disgust washed over A1.
The castle, the refinery, the insectoid horrors – all born from the lingering embers of Super Earth's ancient enemy.
Human brains were being harvested to create those clanker commies, twisted and vile. Brainwashed into believing that their cybernetic communist ideology was superior to a true, proud and free democracy.
"The Cyborgs established contact with the…Illuminates, who hid away somewhere on this planet, intent on using the humans here as live shields from any incursions we would have otherwise launched on the planet had we found out." He spat the name of their most hated enemy as if it were poison. "The Genetic samples we collected from the refugees… they're almost indistinguishable from our own, yet subtly different. We suspect the Illuminates are responsible for the human presence this far from home. And the Ministry of Science confirms…generations of those poor people have been experimented on, manipulated."
Silence fell. Then V3, true to form, spoke, his voice laced with a fury that echoed through them all. "Where are those Illuminates hiding, sir? Just give us the orders, we'll flush them out."
Martin nodded, a flicker of grim approval in his eyes. "That's the frustrating bit. Satellites can't pinpoint their exact base. We have three possibilities: Asshai in the far eastern corner of the continent of Essos, the Land of Always Winter in the Northern most edge of the Continent of Westeros, or in the Southernmost unexplored depths of Sothoryos."
But there was more, another layer to this sickening onion of revelation.
Martin's voice was thick with disgust. "Human progress on Terros has been…stunted. The whole planet's a grotesque parody, engineered to produce vast, malleable populations locked in a twisted copy of feudalism. Their idea of 'democracy' existed solely in a corrupted form in Valyria, the same island your previous mission led to, before those bots and their masters wiped it out with an engineered cataclysm."
A cold dread coiled in A1's gut, twisting tighter with each revelation. Now the Illuminates, those slithering nightmares from Super Earth's darkest legends, were also part of this twisted picture on Terros.
Martin continued, his words striking like hammer blows. "The Illuminates found the perfect pawn in the Valyrians, who somehow, under their vile guidance, figured out how to control the insectoids. Your encounter with those 'Terminids'...they were a slave race, bioengineered to be monstrous, some even weaponized with Element 710 itself, creating what the locals termed 'Dragons' if translated to Democratic-English. Those poor, deluded humans think it's magic, but we know the horrific truth."
Disgust morphed into righteous fury.
This was the heart of true evil, generations of manipulation, of warping sentient life for its own twisted purposes.
The terminids were fascists, but even they didn't deserve slavery.
Their job was to subdue them, bring them under the rule of Managed Democracy, where they would be free, enjoying the taste of liberty, justice, and democracy, while working alongside the humans in mining Element 710.
"We won't play the Illuminates' game of hide-and-seek," Martin declared, his voice cutting through the simmering anger of the squad. "It's time their playthings witnessed the true power of democracy. Our focus isn't solely extermination this time. Oh, we'll crush every hive we find, blast every Automaton to scrap, but this goes deeper than that."
He took a measured breath, his eyes hardening. "Helldivers don't negotiate, we don't engage in diplomacy. These feudal power structures… they exist because those Illuminate bastards are pulling the strings from the shadows. It is time we bring the light of liberty to these poor bastards, Castle by castle, we'll topple their puppets."
Martin's gaze swept over Liberty Squad. "Our first strike is the heart of this twisted power – King's Landing, the seat of the Targaryens, the Illuminates' primary puppet. Once it is secured, Liberty Squad will pave the way for other Helldiver Squadrons to begin taking the castles across the western, eastern, and southern continents on the planet."
Martin leaned forward, his tone shifting from righteous fury to that of a veteran leader outlining a complex tactical operation. "This isn't a standard bug hunt or Automaton purge, Liberty Squad. Too many civilian lives are caught in the crossfire. Our immediate role is to open the path, allow Super Earth Army Tactical Command to establish an opening to deploy in the heart of the city, and establish democracy."
He paused, eyes glinting as he assessed his best squad. "This mission is a surgical strike. Secure King's Landing, by storming the red keep, and the dragon pit, as you can see on the Holotable." The Holotable displayed an image of the city they were to be deployed in "Capture the Targaryen Puppet Overlord in power there, subdue their terminid bio-engineered 'dragons', and SEAC troop deployment will handle the rest, toppling those feudal systems one by one with the smaller lords in the surrounding vicinity."
Martin's fingers traced a projected map displayed on the table. "Helldiver squads will deploy across Terros on pre-determined targets, dismantling Illuminates' power bases. Meanwhile, other helldiver squads will begin their missions, to extract Element 710 in the name of Democracy, once we secure a democratic foothold. Your helmets have since been fitted with translation modules for local languages. Go forth Helldivers and bring the Light of Liberty to these poor primitive feudal fools. Eradicate the tight grip the Sq'uith illuminates have on this planet, and let Managed Democracy spread among our brethren once more!"
The Holotable buzzed under V3's touch, the projected image of King's Landing blurring slightly as he zoomed in. "What kind of opposition should we expect? Bugs?"
The Democracy Officer replied immediately, approval in his eyes "Swords, spears, primitive tech...archers, maybe an old ballista or catapult if luck's against us. Those 'dragons' are the wild card if the Targaryens take to the sky." He paused, disgust thick in his voice. "Above all, Liberty Squad. Our first objective is to dismantle their hierarchy - nobles, knights, the whole rotten lot. Show no hesitation to those who stand in the way of Managed Democracy!"
V3 nodded, understanding the weight of this strike.
The Illuminates, insidious as always, had tainted this world. And with that realization, his resolve strengthened, they would dismantle the entire concept of feudal hierarchy root and stem.
Democracy will be delivered by their guns, destroying the insidious hold of the illuminates on the planet.
He marked a square in the city center – narrow streets, densely packed dwellings. "Our Drop zone is here. We split in teams of two for our primary objectives."
His gaze fixed on A1 and F2. "A1, F2 you will head to the Dragon Pit, northeast from Drop Zone. Primary Objective: neutralize those bioweapons. Secondary Objective: secure one, alive, if possible. We need to figure out how the illuminates tamed and evolved the terminids into these supposed firebreathers."
Then, he turned to T4, the squad's heavy hitter. "T4 you're with me. We're hitting the heart of their power. Southeast – to the castle in the city, the Red Keep. Our primary objective: capture the Targaryens and their power base." His knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the console.
"Affirmative!" Liberty Squad responded as one.
Just as V3 finally locked in the coordinates, the AI's voice responded "Mission Coordinates Locked, preparing for orbital jump to .... the Western Continent."
The ship which had retreated to the fleet, out of orbit near the moon base, lurched and they were launched into a geosynchronous orbit with the planet.
The transition felt smooth, just a sudden increase of pressure from the warp, as all four ships entered into geosynchronous orbit around their target.
Then, the ship's AI, its usual coolness a stark contrast to the tension in the air "All Helldivers to Hellpods. I repeat, All Helldivers to Hellpods!"
With a final salute to the Democracy Officer, Liberty Squad turned on their heels and marched towards the Hellpod bay.
The weight of the coming mission pressed down, but their strides remained determined.
In the cramped confines of the Hellpod, A1 initiated the standard comms check routine, the familiar rhythm a momentary comfort in what was about to unfold.
"A1 to F2, comms check," he barked, his voice tinged with pre-drop jitters he wouldn't admit to.
F2's reply was immediate, her usual confidence edged with a battle-hungry eagerness. "F2 online and raring to go."
"Copy that," A1 responded, a flicker of amusement tugging at his lips despite the mission's gravity.
"A1 to V3 and T4, come in," he continued, switching channels.
V3's response was sharp and focused. "V3 here. Loud and clear. Let's finish this."
T4's voice boomed into the comms "Ready to rumble!"
Satisfied comms were functional, A1 turned his attention to the final stage of prep, stratagem support.
His fingers flew across the console of the Hellpod, connecting him to the tactical AI of the 'Mother of Democracy'.
"Orbital strike on hold," he instructed. "Precision strikes only, to minimize collateral once a target is confirmed." His voice was steady, today, he needed to be a scalpel, not a sledgehammer. "Smoke screen ready."
Finally, F2 confirmed her support via their squad channel. "Gas strike and Eagle support confirmed. Be mindful of civilians, A1. Our priority is to break their power structure, not massacre the city."
The pod rattled against its restraints as the launch sequence engaged. "Mission coordinates locked, Launch Sequence, initiated" the 'Wings of Liberty''s AI announced.
Democracy Officer Martin's parting words reverberated through the cramped space, "Bring the light of liberty to this world, Helldivers. Break the Illuminates' insidious hold. For Democracy!"
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The flickering flames in the hearth cast monstrous shadows upon the tapestry-lined walls of Queen Alicent's chambers. She and her father, Otto Hightower, sat hunched over a great oaken table strewn with maps, their expressions drawn and severe.
"Aemond will arrive at Storm's End soon," Otto declared, his voice an unwavering baritone. "With Vhagar, Lord Borros can hardly deny us. The stormlands will flock to our banner."
Alicent's fingers traced the contours of the painted map, a knot forming in her stomach. "Do you think Rhaenyra knows? Her aunt, Rhaenys, is kin to Baratheon..." Her voice trailed off. Visions of dragon fire and burning skies danced behind her eyes.
Otto's face hardened. "Lord Borros has scarce met 'The Queen Who Never Will Be.' Rhaenyra has spurned him, as did her mother before her. You know that Baratheon pride is fierce. They will not bow to her, Aemond will succeed in his mission."
The reassurance offered little comfort.
Rhaenyra, despite her betrayal, retained dragonriders and allies throughout the realm. Their numbers might be few, but the devastation they could unleash was formidable.
Suddenly, the harsh clangor of bells erupted, ripping through the tense silence of the Red Keep. Every muscle in Alicent's body froze.
Her hands flew to her mouth, a strangled cry escaping her lips.
"The bells..." she choked, her emerald eyes wide with terror. "Father! Rhaenyra is attacking!"
Otto's weathered hand settled on Alicent's trembling shoulder, its warmth a stark contrast to the icy dread coursing through her veins. "Hush, daughter," he soothed, his voice steady despite the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. "An attack would be the height of foolishness. Even though Aemond is gone with Vhagar; Rhaenyra would not risk her precious dragons so recklessly in attacking here at Kings Landing."
Nonetheless, he moved with the agility of a younger man, drawing himself to his full height. "You are right, however, we must be vigilant. Go to Aegon. Send him to the dragon pit, to mount Sunfyre. I shall rouse Ser Criston and the Kingsguard, then secure the red keep. Should Rhaenyra be mad enough to attempt this folly, the scorpions and our archers will greet her."
Alicent nodded numbly, terror still clawing at her composure.
The sight of her father, ever the pillar of strength, served to quell the worst of her panic.
With a final, desperate squeeze of her father's hand, she swept from the room.
Her footsteps echoed through the hushed corridors, a frantic counterpoint to the ceaseless tolling of the bells.
Alicent burst into the throne room, the din of alarm bells fading against the chaotic clamor within. Guards streamed past her, their armor clanging with an urgency that sent fresh shivers down her spine. The room, once a place of royal grandeur, thrummed with a desperate energy.
Aegon, clad in a hastily donned gambeson, was locked in a tense conversation with Helaena, her face pale and drawn.
Ser Arryk Cargyll, Ser Rickard Thorne, and stoic Ser Willis Fell loomed protectively around them. Even amidst the chaos, the twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, clung to their mother's skirts, whimpering in confusion."Aegon!"
Alicent's voice sliced through the din. "You need to get on Sunfyre! we have no time–"
Her son turned, a mix of irritation and impatience flickering across his face. "Mother! Do you think I am blind?" He gestured toward his Kingsguard. "Ser Willis secure Helaena and the children, while we ride for the Dragonpit."
Alicent gritted her teeth, panic gnawing at her composure. "Every second counts! The sooner–"
"I AM THE KING! SHUT UP!" Aegon snapped, his youthful face marred by sudden anger. He strode past her, Ser Arryk and Ser Rickard falling in step behind him. "I will secure my wife and sons …. And then, Sunfyre will roast any dragon Rhaenyra has sent."
Ser Willis showing presence of mind, quickly kneeled and began to usher the Queen and her children out of the Red Keep.
Just as they were about to disappear through the towering archway, a figure stumbled into the room, gasping for breath.
Maester Orwyle, his robes askew and his face drained of color, clutched at the doorjamb like a drowning man. His eyes, wide and unfocused, darted wildly towards the high, arched windows.
"The end..." he wheezed, his voice a strangled whisper. "The heavens themselves have opened...demons...demons in the sky...!" He pointed a trembling finger upwards out of the open windows, his entire body wracked with terror.
Alicent's blood turned to ice.
She followed Orwyle's gaze and felt her heart seize in her chest.
Dark, monstrous shapes eclipsed the familiar blue of the sky, their impossible contours and sheer scale defying all reason.
Four colossal objects hung above King's Landing, dwarfing the towers of the Red Keep. They were as black as midnight, impossibly smooth, and seemed to defy the very laws of nature as they blotted out the sun.
A collective gasp rippled through the throne room, stifling the murmurs of fear that had been swelling moments before.
Every head turned skyward.
Aegon's bravado faltered, his face morphing into a mask of bewilderment as he beheld the unnatural sights above.
The menacing shapes in the sky defied all understanding. They were not winged beasts but vast, hulking shadows without form or sense.
Unsettling silence hung in the air, broken only by Maester Orwyle's maddened whispers of demons and despair.
Then, the impossible happened.
From the smooth underbellies of the monstrous forms, fiery stars detached, streaking downwards like bolts of divine wrath. They fell upon King's Landing with terrifying speed, shattering the illusion of a natural world, as they struck the central high road, close to the Alchemists Hall.
Panic surged through the room.
Fear mingled with superstition.
The twins, Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, wailed in terror, clinging to Helaena's skirts.
Ser Willis tightened his grip on his sword, his eyes locked on the descending terrors.
A figure in white robes burst into the chamber – the newly appointed Septon, his face etched with dread.
"The end is upon us!" he shrieked, the pious words a stark counterpoint to his wild eyes. "The gods unleash their retribution! These are the flames of judgement for the usurper's treachery!"
Aegon, his facade of kingly strength crumbling, flinched. His voice, when it emerged, held a tremor he struggled to conceal. "Ser Arryk! Take that madman's head!"
The Kingsguard Knight moved without question, his blade flashing in the filtered light.
In a heartbeat, the Septon's warnings were silenced, his blood a stark splash upon the marble floor.
Ser Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King followed closely by the grim-faced Ser Criston Cole, strode into the room. "My King," Otto intoned, his gaze fixed upon the heavens, "we must make haste…. The people will need reassurance, the might of the dragons is the only thing that can face these demons. Mount Sunfyre, your Grace."
Ser Criston stepped forward, his voice a rumble. "Sire, your Kingsguard will see you to Sunfyre. We shall hold them back...whatever hellspawn descend from those monstrosities."
Ser Otto surveyed the scene.
He gestured towards where the 'fallen stars' crashed into the city. His eyes, always sharp, glittered with a cold light. "I saw them through my far-eye," he rasped. "Black-armored fiends, not of this earth." His gaze met Aegon's. "This city will look to its true king. Mount your dragon, Aegon Targaryen, and show them true fire."
A flicker of fear danced in Aegon's eyes, but under the weight of his father's stare, he found a sliver of brittle courage.
Casting one last glance at his whimpering children, he nodded.
"Ser Criston, Ser Arryk, Ser Rickard...with me!"
The three Kingsguard knights, their white cloaks swirling, followed their king as he rushed from the throne room. Otto Hightower, pillar of iron, remained.
As the marching of the guards, and knights sounded in the red keep, he prayed to the Gods to help them face whatever monstrosity they were now faced with.
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The fiery streak of A1's descent through the alien sky mirrored the anticipation in his heart.
His hellpod slammed into the cobbled street with the force of a thunderbolt, burying itself deep into the ancient stones.
The townsfolk, their cries of "Demons!" barely registering through his translation module, scattered like insects before the unearthly contraption.
Moments later, the pod's mechanism hissed, lifting A1 from the smoking pit. His visor swept across the scene, cataloging targets and threats even as adrenaline hammered through his veins. With a flick of his wrist, his console sprang to life.
"Calling in supplies! Stratagem deployment confirmed. RS-422 railgun inbound," he chirped. "LIFT-850 Jump Pack engaged."
A flicker of movement caught his eye.
F2, her own hellpod now concealed beneath the upturned earth, was already on the move.
Her form was a blur, the bulky shield generator secured to her back, the monstrous FAF-14 SPEAR launcher rapidly secured on her shoulder.
To the southeast, horse-mounted figures clad in archaic armor converged upon their position, their panicked shouts barely audible over the roar of the crowd. Time was a luxury they couldn't afford.
V3's voice, tight with tension, crackled over the comms. "Objectives confirmed. Channels open. Let's get to work."
A1 nodded, feeling the familiar weight of the LAS-16 plasma rifle in his hands.
He and F2 shared a brief glance, their helmets reflecting the twisted fear in the onlookers' eyes.
Then, as one, they turned northeast, sprinting down the narrow street towards the Dragonpit.
T4, a grim line etched on their virtual face "Rejoice! The Light of Managed Democracy has come to save you all from the Tyranny of the Kings and Queens who would rule you all!"
The frantic energy of the townsfolk was a buzzing backdrop as A1 and F2 pounded down the streets, ignoring the panicked civies that rushed out of their way.
Over the open comms, gunshots and crackling energy blasts from V3 and T4's battle echoed, interspersed with T4's bizarre pronouncements.
"That's right your illuminate overlords kept you under the yoke of tyranny! Now face the might of DEMOCRACY!" T4's voice boomed amidst the chaos. "Come and get a taste of my liber-TEA!"
F2's report cut through the madness. "Maps indicate riders exited the castle. Likely heading towards the Dragonpit. Ambush imminent, or they're planning to use...those enhanced firebreathing terminids."
The acknowledgment crackled on the comms.
Ahead he saw some guards prepare line of men, lining the rooftops of the buildings, a volley of arrows streaked towards them, their hails of 'Fire!' barely audible over the thrumming of bowstrings.
A1, eyes already tracking the enemy archers. He tossed a flash into an open building shouting "Flash incoming!", as soon as the flash went off he followed in, narrowly avoiding the barrage of primitive arrow fire.
Inside, he saw that the building had been abandoned.
F2's shield generator flickered to life, deflecting the onslaught like rain against a forcefield.
"Archers ahead, swordsmen flanking the streets. Someone's giving orders, can you pinpoint, F2?"
A pause, then F2's reply, clipped and strained. "They're lined up all across the rooftops of the street ahead, the shield's holding, but those arrows are suppressing as all hell," she barked back. "Any bright ideas?"
"Roger that, F2. Commencing suppressive fire in three...two...one!" A1 barked into the comms as he positioned himself at the window to provide return fire, His plasma rifle spat bursts of searing energy, forcing the archers on his side of the street into cover. "Remember, EAGLE 1 - watch for those civilians!"
F2's voice crackled in response, "Eyes peeled. Most of the civies are clearing out like rats from a sinking ship. Panic's working to our advantage... "
The satellite aboard the 'Wings of Liberty' had been calibrated to indicate all individuals who are armed as hostile on their HUD, while any individual who dropped their swords, or fled a far enough distance would be labeled green.
Suddenly, a low rumble filled the air, growing into a deafening roar that drowned out even the shouts of the enemy soldiers.
A1 risked a glance out the broken wooden window.
A sleek, metallic jet materialized above their Super Destroyers, its underslung weapons pod pulsating with malevolent energy.
"EAGLE 1 here! Democracy takes flight!" The pilot's voice echoed through the comms.
The bird's plasma cannons roared, blasting apart the rooftops and sending those archers who dared remain into a panicked scramble for their lives.
Stone and wood splintered, mingling with terrified screams cut abruptly short.
Through the chaos, V3's voice cut in, a tremor of strain beneath his usual bravado. "Helldivers, we've breached the outer gates of that damn castle - T4's going full-blown crusader. Let's finish this! We need to prepare for SEAF troop deployment ASAP!"
F2, once again reloading her massive SPEAR launcher, replied. "Acknowledged. The ambush at the Dragonpit is confirmed...looks like they're getting their fire lizards saddled. Over."
A1, taking advantage of the lull, sprinted across the street, the hiss of his jump pack momentarily cutting through the din. "My railgun is locked and loaded. I'll say hello to any flying beastie coming our way. F2, take point - let's reach that damn pit!"
With EAGLE 1's thunderous support having cleared their path, A1 and F2 surged forward.
The road ahead, once teeming with hostile forces, now lay broken and abandoned. The air reeked of scorched wood and ozone, the panicked cries of civilians echoing faintly in the distance. Some buildings were still on fire.
They reached the Dragonpit, a hulking structure that dominated the surrounding landscape.
Its massive dome was now a target on their HUDs.
Outside, a battalion of soldiers – knights, guards, and hastily conscripted men-at-arms – scrambled into a defensive formation. The desperate glint of steel in their eyes spoke of fear mingled with a fierce resolve.
"They've prepared an ambush," F2 muttered, the bulky SPEAR launcher clicking into place on her shoulder. "Orbital Gas Strike ready to create some chaos. Your call, A1."
A1 nodded grimly. "Hit 'em. Hard. Then we hit 'em harder." He keyed his comms, "F2, light 'em up!"
F2's response was a wicked grin.
A flick of her wrist, and a shimmering beacon arced towards the center of the enemy line. Seconds later, a new voice filled the channel.
"This is 'Bringer of Family Values'. Orbital Gas inbound, payload confirmed. May freedom rain down on these misguided souls."
Before the enemy could react, a hissing canister plummeted into their midst.
It billowed a noxious green smoke that spread with unnatural speed, sending the defenders into a frenzy of choking coughs and disorientated flailing.
Just as the Super Destroyer's officer declared "Payload detonated", a new sound cut through the chaos.
A roar.
It was a monstrous, soul-shaking bellow that drowned out even the cries of the gassed soldiers.
A1's eyes snapped upwards. Above the dispersing haze, three enormous forms wheeled in the sky, their leathery wings blotting out the sun.
A fourth, a very clear replica of a shrieker but much larger in size, had a figure clinging to its armored back.
V3's voice, breathless and laced with awe, crackled over the comms. "Helldivers…we've breached the Keep. Sweet Super Earth … I think we just found ourselves the damn queens."
The comms were alive with a surge of adrenaline-fueled chaos. Martin's voice, crisp and official, pierced the din. "Primary Objective complete. V3, T4, congratulations. Five captives in custody, awaiting transport. Our boys in the SEAF are waiting to take the streets, clear the skies, A1 and F2 – good hunting."
A1's reply was curt, a hunter's promise. "Rider and beast – non-lethal takedown. Consider it done."
F2, already focused on the swirling dragons above, echoed with a predatory grin. "The other three? They're mine."
He raised the railgun, its targeting system locking onto the orange enhanced terminid.
As the creature swooped, its maw opening in a fiery prelude, A1 charged his railgun.
The concussive blast echoed like thunder, hitting the dragon square in its gaping mouth. It jerked back, a screech of pain replacing its ear-splitting roar, then tumbled from the sky with a ground-shaking crash.
A1 wasted no breath on celebration, firing another shot at the whimpering beast, rendering it unconscious.
Through the clearing smoke, he could just make out the trapped figure of its rider, a tangle of silver hair and gleaming armor.
The remaining dragons, witness to their kin's fall, shrieked in rage.
They wove in a deadly pincer attack, mouths aglow with the promise of fiery vengeance.
Just then, F2's voice cut through the impending doom.
"FX-12 shield gen, deploying!"
The world seemed to bend around them as a pod hurtled down from 'Bringer of Family Values'.
A shimmering golden field flickered to life, enveloping A1 and F2 just as the dragons unleashed their fiery breath.
The shield strained, rippling against the onslaught, but it held.
From their precarious bubble of safety, F2 launched her attack.
The SPEAR missile arced across the battlefield, seeking its target. One of the dragons, caught mid-roar, exploded in a shower of scales and flame. The impact sent the other two reeling back, buying A1 and F2 precious seconds.
The fallen dragon lay a grotesque heap before them.
The remaining knights, their faces masks of terror, reacted as any cornered animal might.
Half broke and ran, weapons abandoned as their shouts of "demons!" faded into the distance.
The rest fell to their knees, hands raised in gestures the helldivers' translators identified as pleas for mercy.
F2 raised her SPEAR launcher, eyes narrowed as she tracked the two remaining dragons fleeing northeast. A predatory grin flickered across her face, but then faded.
"Stand down, F2," Martin's voice crackled over the comms. "Primary objective secured, skies are clear. Helldiver mission accomplished."
A1 keyed his own comms, the adrenaline slowly subsiding. "SEAF deployment ready, marking coordinates. Confirm." There was a brief pause, then the cool AI voice of the Super Destroyer responded, confirming deployment.
He glanced up and saw the distant shapes of descending Pelicans.
His attention was torn back to the scene below when a new threat emerged. A lone knight, his armor gleaming white in the harsh light, charged recklessly towards the injured king.
"Ser Criston! No!" The downed silver-haired rider of the enhanced terminid moaned, as he gazed at the frantic knight rushing to his rescue.
F2 reacted first. Her rifle snapped up, a burst of fire shattering the knight's kneecap. He collapsed with a howl of pain, his desperate advance cut short.
With the urgency of the battle fading, A1 approached the trapped figure. The air thrummed with fading panic: the scattered remnants of the knightly force, either kneeling in surrender or fleeing like cornered rats, and the muted thuds of SEAF Pelicans landing in the distance.
Beneath the dragon's massive form, the once-regal figure was reduced to a pathetic heap. His whimpers had transformed into desperate howls, a strange mix of defiance and abject terror.
"Stay back! Demons! Sunfyre...wake...avenge me!" The youth's voice cracked, his once-proud demands dissolving into sobs as A1 drew closer.
A glint of something metallic caught A1's eye. A crown, its gleaming surface smudged with blood and dust, lay discarded mere feet from the injured figure. It clicked. This wasn't just some rider; this was the king. The realization was tempered with a pang of something that might have been pity. The arrogance of royalty was gone, replaced by a vulnerability as raw as the wound on his head.
A1 ignored the desperate sobs and pleas. Death stalked this broken boy; delay would only prolong his suffering. With the practiced efficiency of a combat medic, he knelt beside the king. There was a flash of silver as he produced a medical stim, the sharp sting of the injection momentarily drowned out by the king's shriek.
As the stim's calming effects started to kick in, A1 rapped the butt of his rifle against the boy's temple. It was a swift, merciful blow. The whimpering ceased abruptly.
"Primary target secured, unconscious," A1 reported into his comms. "Casualty, significant blood loss and... appears to be a crushed lower limb. Will need immediate evac when SEAF arrives."
"Acknowledged, A1. Med-evac is on its way." The Democracy Officer replied through the comms.
Behind them, F2 approached the steps of the Dragonpit.
With a flourish, she planted the Super Earth flag, the emblem of democracy standing stark against the ancient stone. She threw the flag a crisp salute, her voice echoing across the battlefield. "May the light of Super Earth, and Managed Democracy shine a new day on these poor souls."
Over the comms, Martin's voice held triumph. "This day, Helldivers, a new beacon of freedom shines. SEAF will secure the city. The terminid, once a tool of tyranny, is broken. Your fellow helldivers now have an example to strive to as they set on their missions to spread Democracy on this planet! Let the illuminates tremble as we spread the light of Managed Democracy to their puppet world. From this first victory, a thousand more shall follow!"
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(A/N) That closes that.
This chapter was the last 'serious' helldive for a while.
Now, I will have other Helldivers going on missions, spreading managed democracy to this planet. Expect shenanigans.
Liberty Squad are all him.
I have stuck as close to Helldiver lore as I could.
(I will continue my other story at the end of next week. I am currently on a vacation, and am uploading whatever I had in store for my next fic)
