Acadia's clever device
May. 25th, 2011 04:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
loloteheAt dawn, it started to snow.
It was only a light dusting at first: covering the street and buildings. The antiquated, colonial-style domes took on the appearance of sugar-frosted desserts and the city square in Three Rivers looked less like the center of a rebellion and more like the final plate of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Things were still, quiet, and oddly delicious.
Acadia was leaning against the low wall of a roof-top, well hidden by the new cover that had been put up the night before. From the air, the roof looked like all the others: barren, worn-down, and covered in the morning snow.
The Shipping Authority came in from the east.
They had two walkers: chicken-legged things packed with missiles and rapid-fire machine guns. Underneath that, a troupe of about fifteen infantry. Ground troops had already activated their shields and the morning snow covered their heads like lazy halos.
Too easy, Acadia thought. They're lazy on this. They got complacent. They're about to be surprised.
Aircraft droned overhead, spotting the layout. The covers over the buildings would fool them. They could not see the people in wait.
And the lonely squadron advanced through the city square.
Acadia let them advance through the square before giving the signal to throw the poppers. The entire town had worked until the small hours of the morning, soldering the inexpensive devices and packing them into cardboard boxes. Each piece cost maybe a couple of real to manufacture and small, nimble hands had created a plethora in the cold, dark hours before the raid.
Rooftops exploded in what looked like confetti.
The poppers fell as glitter over the invading Shipping Authority troops and blinked in so many colors. It was delightful to watch a many-pattered rainbow and its decent from the roofs. So many tiny parts, each shimmering in its own polychromatic decent.
It almost matched the snow in beauty.
And then, that one popper, just one, found the signal that neutralized the Shipping Authority shields and turned a bright, blood red, and broadcast that oh-so-special frequency to the other poppers that fell like joyous glitter. And they all turned a deep, blood blood red.
That was the signal.
Behind the berm of collected trash, the children's chorus started their mechanical and orchestrated volley of thrown objects. Most were basic incendiary devices, a few concussion grenades, and one was an electro-magnetic pulse that would render a magnetically-fired bolt inoperable.
The Shipping Authority now had no shields and no weapons.
Arcadia led the charge.
The people of Ursus Major-47 did not have the fancy weapons issued to the Shipping Authority. Thanks to one special projectile, neither did their enemy. The townsfolk charged forward with axes, hammers, and lengths of pipe. This was hand-to-hand combat of the most bloody and personal kind.
Although, Acadia did have a tiny bit of respect for the soldiers she had been tasked with killing. They clustered around each other the moment it was obvious what had happened. Guns that had once fired bolts became bludgeoning weapons in less than five seconds and she could see, even though it was cold and stung her eyes, that they had been trained to work around material failures like what they were facing now.
She almost felt pity.
Private Bai Zhao already had the barrel of his gun in both hands and was swinging at whatever approached him when Acadia Leon unfurled the two long blades that had become her signature. There was only a slight pause as he stopped to admire it before she cut him in two.
As she drew the long blade though his body, there was a twinge of pride that he had died for the greater good, at the hand of a formidable opponent. Considering all the things that could have potentially killed him during his journey to Ursus Major-47—a bad seal, poor landing gear, improperly stored food—it was almost a relief that it was cool steel and an enraged red-head that finally did him in.
At the very least, he died happy and proud.
It was only a light dusting at first: covering the street and buildings. The antiquated, colonial-style domes took on the appearance of sugar-frosted desserts and the city square in Three Rivers looked less like the center of a rebellion and more like the final plate of an all-you-can-eat buffet. Things were still, quiet, and oddly delicious.
Acadia was leaning against the low wall of a roof-top, well hidden by the new cover that had been put up the night before. From the air, the roof looked like all the others: barren, worn-down, and covered in the morning snow.
The Shipping Authority came in from the east.
They had two walkers: chicken-legged things packed with missiles and rapid-fire machine guns. Underneath that, a troupe of about fifteen infantry. Ground troops had already activated their shields and the morning snow covered their heads like lazy halos.
Too easy, Acadia thought. They're lazy on this. They got complacent. They're about to be surprised.
Aircraft droned overhead, spotting the layout. The covers over the buildings would fool them. They could not see the people in wait.
And the lonely squadron advanced through the city square.
Acadia let them advance through the square before giving the signal to throw the poppers. The entire town had worked until the small hours of the morning, soldering the inexpensive devices and packing them into cardboard boxes. Each piece cost maybe a couple of real to manufacture and small, nimble hands had created a plethora in the cold, dark hours before the raid.
Rooftops exploded in what looked like confetti.
The poppers fell as glitter over the invading Shipping Authority troops and blinked in so many colors. It was delightful to watch a many-pattered rainbow and its decent from the roofs. So many tiny parts, each shimmering in its own polychromatic decent.
It almost matched the snow in beauty.
And then, that one popper, just one, found the signal that neutralized the Shipping Authority shields and turned a bright, blood red, and broadcast that oh-so-special frequency to the other poppers that fell like joyous glitter. And they all turned a deep, blood blood red.
That was the signal.
Behind the berm of collected trash, the children's chorus started their mechanical and orchestrated volley of thrown objects. Most were basic incendiary devices, a few concussion grenades, and one was an electro-magnetic pulse that would render a magnetically-fired bolt inoperable.
The Shipping Authority now had no shields and no weapons.
Arcadia led the charge.
The people of Ursus Major-47 did not have the fancy weapons issued to the Shipping Authority. Thanks to one special projectile, neither did their enemy. The townsfolk charged forward with axes, hammers, and lengths of pipe. This was hand-to-hand combat of the most bloody and personal kind.
Although, Acadia did have a tiny bit of respect for the soldiers she had been tasked with killing. They clustered around each other the moment it was obvious what had happened. Guns that had once fired bolts became bludgeoning weapons in less than five seconds and she could see, even though it was cold and stung her eyes, that they had been trained to work around material failures like what they were facing now.
She almost felt pity.
Private Bai Zhao already had the barrel of his gun in both hands and was swinging at whatever approached him when Acadia Leon unfurled the two long blades that had become her signature. There was only a slight pause as he stopped to admire it before she cut him in two.
As she drew the long blade though his body, there was a twinge of pride that he had died for the greater good, at the hand of a formidable opponent. Considering all the things that could have potentially killed him during his journey to Ursus Major-47—a bad seal, poor landing gear, improperly stored food—it was almost a relief that it was cool steel and an enraged red-head that finally did him in.
At the very least, he died happy and proud.
