Project Excalibur: Excalibur Unsheathed

By Matt TALON Kirkby


    "Let's get down, fleshlings!" Brawl laughed as he trampled several cars. These Humans certainly loved to cluster around their 'shopping malls'-whatever they were-and those huge buildings standing out in the middle of paved ground made such excellent and crowded targets. He stomped another car underfoot, enjoying the loud crunch of metal and glass. "Almost as nice a sound as I get squishing a fleshling," he chuckled.
    "Surrender, Decepticon!" a voice boomed.
    Incredulous, Brawl turned around. "What are you supposed to be?" he demanded of his would-be assailant.
    "I am a member of the Iron Guard! Surrender immediately... this is your final warning. The speaker was a humanoid, Transformer-sized robot, with a red/black paint scheme. Twin machine guns were mounted on its left arm, and a gleaming laser cannon was attached to its right.
    Brawl laughed aloud. "You gotta be kidding," he sneered. "I thought we'd smashed all the Autobots already...guess we must've missed one." The Humans and their mall was forgotten as he took a step towards this much better target. "Where'd the fleshlings find you?" Getting no answer, he raised his pistol. "I'll just squash you first, then finish playing with the Humans."
    The mechanoid raised his left arm. "You were warned. In the name of the Iron Guards, you are under arrest." Armour-piercing bullets sprayed from the machine guns.
    Brawl stumbled backwards under the barrage, the impact of dozens of bullets striking his torso knocking him off-balance. With a snarl, he fired his pistol and the Iron Guard reeled as a smoking crater erupted in its chest. "Ha! That'll teach you to mess with your betters!" Another shot and the Guard toppled over backwards, crunching heavily onto the pavement. "What's this?" Brawl gasped. The mech's head had fallen off...and it was-"A fleshling?" He scooped the armoured Human up in his hand, "So, it's freakobot." He studied it closely. Then he crushed it.
    Another Guard-identical to the first-dropped out of the sky...flames flaring from the rocket pack on its back. "You'll pay for that, Decepticon!"
    "You'll be no more difficult to kill than this one!" Brawl sneered and opened fire. The Guard stumbled. "I'm glad that you fleshings finally decided to fight back, but you're still-"
    Panels on the Guard's chest slid open and a dozen short-range missiles streaked outwards with clouds of smoke.
    Brawl screamed as fierce explosions pockmarked his body and shattered his armour. Regaining his balance, he saw the Guard aim its left arm at him...then his vision went black as bullets shattered his optic band.
    With a whine of stressed jet turbines, a dozen jets dove out of the smoke-stained sky. Wing-mounted missiles streaked from their launchers and explosions tore at the hull of a grounded combat shuttle. The blue/green fuselages of the jets gleamed as they swung around for a second pass.
    Cannons mounted on the shuttle swiveled skyward, and opened fire. Crimson lasers stabbed skyward, slicing through the air at the incoming jets.
    Even as three of their comrades exploded, the surviving jets salvoed more missiles at the shuttle.
    One missile scored a direct hit on the Decepticon emblem on the shuttle's tail fin.
    Receiving words of the attack on their shuttle-their current erstwhile base-several members of a nearby Decepticon battle unit halted their advance towards the only worthwhile target in the area-a research facility owned by their old Human enemy, G.B. Blackrock-and turned back.
    "Cowards!" Fangry snarled. "Ignore them! We've got-"
    The stutter of machine gun fire interrupted him.
    "This is restricted territory!" a Human voice shouted. "You are ordered to withdraw immediately."
    Fangry couldn't believe his audio receptors. "Who one gives orders to me!" he shouted.
    "You have been warned."
    Fangry turned and gestured to the remaining Decepticons under his command. "Well?" he shouted. "Prove yourselves to be true Decepticons! Find that fleshling!"
    A laser bolt caused one Decepticon's head module to explode.
    "We are the Iron Guards." Three humanoid mechs stepped into sight from behind a copse of tall pine trees. "This planet is under our protection. Withdraw or be destroyed!"
    "Never!" Fangry shrieked and lunged at the mechs. He moved so quickly that the Iron Guards never got even off a single shot before he was in their midst. He slashed one of them, tearing open his chest armour with his claws.
    The third Guard managed to fire his machine guns before he was attacked. Fangry ripped him into shreds almost immediately afterwards though, ignoring his own minor damage.
    The whine of jet engines filled the air as blue/green jets dropped from the clouds. Their strafing run cut down most of Fangry's remaining squadmates,
    "We are the Steel Shields. This world is no longer helpless before your threat!" The lead jet transformed into a robot as it thudded onto the ground. "This battle is over!" His arm-mounted weapons sent bolts of energy stabbing at Fangry.
    "Kill them all!" The Decepticon snarled and lunged forward.
    Snipe and Terradive chuckled to one another as they strafed some of the Humans' surface transports. They weren't much of a challenge, even for ground-crawlers-the stupid things actually had to follow specific tracks laid across the ground making them so predictable!-but they provided some diversion.
    Then a white/gold jet shot past them.
    "What was that?" Terradive asked.
    "Looked like a target," Snipe replied. "Let's find out." He accelerated after the other aircraft. "You know, he looks familiar," Blast Off said as he fell into formation with the other two Decepticons. He'd been used mostly to transport troops and supplies, but had taken time off to get in some combat. "Except for the paint job, he could be that Autobot, Powerglide."
    "Impossible!" Snipe snapped. "You guys clipped his wings back at Autobot City." He chuckled. "Clipped his slagging wings permanently!"
    The white/gold jet had banked and was now coming straight towards them. "Murderers!" its pilot shouted over the radio.
    Blast Off screamed as a thermal beam melted through his left wing. Then, as the unknown jet executed an impossibly tight turn, another beam sliced into his engines.
    As their disabled comrade plunged ground ward, Terradive and Snipe split apart to engage their aerial opponent.
    "It just might be Powerglide," Snipe complained as the enemy jet eluded his fire yet again with another sharp turn. "I've never seen anyone fly like that!"
    "More shooting, less chatting!" Terradive snapped. "I've picked up more fleshling jets incoming on my sensors!"
    "Green wing, going in." The six jets dove ground ward, their engines screaming with thrust as they leveled out mere meters from the ground and accelerated. "Green leader to wing, hit 'em hard!" As the four surviving jets lifted above the smoke from the explosions their missiles had caused to the munitions depot, the leader opened a corn-channel. "Green Wing to Camelot...the Steel Shields are in business."
    Krok cursed as machine gun bullets pockmarked the wall behind his head. "Who taught these guys to fight?" he demanded. "Slag it all, I miss the early days of the invasion." His keen optics picked up movement as more of those 'Iron Guards' advanced on his position and machine gun fire from them intensified. "I need some support!" he shouted into his comlink. "Fast!"
    "State your position," a voice requested calmly.
    "I'm standing at the corner of Fifth and Vine," Krok snapped. "Wherever that is. I don't know how the Humans came up with the names for this place." 'Fifth' what? He didn't see any vines around either.
    A loud thump echoed from further down the street.
    "We're taking a pounding here!" Krok told the Decepticon back on the Dark Glory. "Any kind of support would be helpful."
    "What is the nature of your emergency?" The com-tech sounded bored.
    "Some army of mechs. I don't know who they are, but they're tearing my squad apart!" It wasn't fair-he and his team had torn through the city, smashed aside the few defenses the Humans had thrown up, and trampled their so-called military. And then these new mechs appeared and the Decepticons had been halted in their advance and even forced to fall back.
    It wasn't fair!
    The whine of artillery shells heralded a series of explosions which tore through more of the local architecture.

    "We got conventional units closing in, and then those new mechs showed up!" Razorclaw shook his head. "It's quite unlike anything I've fought before."
    Frostwing frowned. "Can you be more specific?" she demanded. "If I'm to explain your inexcusable failures to secure the local objectives to Megatron -"
    "I didn't call you down from the Dark Glory, Frostwing."
    "No, the sudden drop in successful mission outcomes demanded my presence."
    "These mechs don't fight like Autobots!" The angry Predacon Commander gestured to a monitor. "Sure, they might look like a bunch of Autobot Transformers, but they fight like... well, like Decepticons. " He shrugged. "For every one of them we kill, two more show up somewhere else."
    "And whenever they link up with conventional Human military forces, we get hurt even worse."
    Frostwing glanced at Divebomb, but said nothing in response.
    "Our advance has been halted in twelve locations." Razorclaw pointed to a tactical map. "I have considered all the options, and I think it's in our best interests to withdraw our forces back to secure territory."
    "A retreat?" Frostwing sounded skeptical.
    "Call it a consolidation of our current conquests. These new opponents alter the scales of battle... we need time to determine a new strategy for dealing with them. This current response is akin to blind panic from some of those 'elite' officers." He clenched a fist. "Then we can start the hunt anew."
    "Agreed," Frostwing said with a resigned nod. "I'll inform Megatron of your recommendations, and support it." She glanced at the map display again. "Halt the primary advance and hold your current positions. I'll contact the other local commanders and - "
    A chime sounded from the com-station and the tech seated there tapped some controls. "Commander!" he called.
    "Yes?" Frostwing and Razorclaw replied in unison, then glared at each other.
    "Com-signal from Fangry's unit! They got ambushed by Iron Guards and Steel Shields. . .the entire unit was wiped out."
    Frostwing looked puzzled. "Then how," she asked calmly, "did we get this message?"
    The tech looked nervous. "A Human tapped into their assigned frequency and called us. ..to brag."
    Razorclaw growled. "They deserve death!"
    "And they will get it," Frostwing told him. "Soon."

    Tai-sa Fujiyama stared at the assembled troops awaiting his command. The proud Iron Guards stood in 4 ranks, every mech tall and immobile, armour gleaming and weaponry polished.
    "They are ready, Colonel," Doctor Fujiyama announced softly.
    As head of the CyberTech Nagasaki Research Facility, he had overseen the development and construction of the HeadMasters...and his older brother had provided the trained military personnel to actually pilot them.
    "You know what is at stake!" Tai-sa Fujiyama shouted, his voice carrying across the flat field-a fair distance from the Nagasaki facility-where his troops had assembled. "The enemy are closing in the capitol...the brave soldiers who fight them cannot hold them back for much longer, despite their willingness to stand and die at their posts." As a Tai-sa-a colonel as the Westerners named it-he had access to accurate military reports. "The life of the Emperor is in danger!" His troops stiffened even more at that comment, as he knew they would. "We are the only hope of saving him!" A final pause, then Fujiyama lifted his gleaming sword-its honour unstained after ten generations in his family-above his head. "For his Majesty!"
    "Banzai!" the troops shouted, thrusting their right fists into the air.
    Fujiyama put his neurohelmet on. Unlike the bland designs of the Americans, his brother truly understood the needs of a proper warrior and had taken care-even in this crisis-to shape the bonding helmets like those of ancient samurai. Now, Fujiyama felt the connection with his mech, and he transformed his armour-clad body into a head which fastened itself to the shoulders of the largest mech present. "Deploy!" Fujiyama shouted, his voice now that of a titan. "Banzai!"
    Doctor Fujiyama's dark eyes watched his brother and his unit leave the field, their slow walk rapidly accelerating into an earth-shaking run. "Banzai, brother."

    Vindicator sighed as his olfactory sensors sampled the air and detected the scent of roasted carbonite. The primitives had stood their ground to the end, despite the obvious superiority of the attackers. The Groundpounders-Vindicator's personal combat unit-had smashed through every line of defense these Humans had established, pushing closer to the capitol of this puny island. Even now, his artillery teams could sand long-range missiles into the city.
    "Commander!"
    "Yes, Spiker?" Vindicator toed the wreckage of a burned-out tank with boredom.
    The Groundpounders' second-in-command snapped to attention, then pointed to the west. "We have enemy units approaching."
    "More fleshlings?"
    "No, Commander... they are mechanoids,. "
    Vindicator looked surprised "Autobots? Or some of those Human-built things which have been giving the others such fits on the western landmass?"
    "Visuals indicate Iron Guards...however, we lost contact with the scouting party almost immediately after their first alert was transmitted. No accurate reports on enemy numbers."
    Vindicator smiled. "No matter...at last we finally receive a worthy foe! Spikar, regroup the Groundpounders. We will meet these Guards head-to-head, as true warriors."
    "A preliminary air strike, Commander?"
    "Yes, I suppose we can soften them up, but leave some for us to fight on the ground." Vindicator didn't like the air team, but he had been ordered to use them more often...and ordered so by Megatron himself so he could not disobey.
    "As you command."

    "Tai-sa, incoming aircraft!"
    Fujiyama had already spotted them-his mech's sensor system was the best available, as befitted the team leader-and he had no need to issue any orders.
    Four of the Guards stopped in their tracks and lifted their arms towards the sky while their comrades continued to advance. As the enemy aircraft screamed in for the kill on the motionless mechs, the waiting Guards opened fire.
    Vindicator watched his troops deploying around his position. The terrain was lightly forested, with extensive urban sprawl- and no doubt numerous hidden native military forces-off to the east.
    Spiker stiffened as his internal radio received a partial transmission. "Commander, the air strike has failed...two mechs destroyed, but all five aircraft were shot down. The Gaurds will be cresting the hill in less than a minute."
    "So much for aerial supremacy." Vindicator nodded calmly. "But it is as I anticipated." He took a step forward. "Stand by for my command!"
    Sunlight glinted off metal.
    "Wait for it."
    A line of mechs crested the hill at a walk. They all looked identical, red-on-white colour schemes gleaming in the sunlight, weapon-arms held ready.
    The mech in the centre was the biggest, half again the height of its comrades. It held up an arm and the line stopped-a most impressive feat of unison. "I am Tai-sa Fujiyama, commander of the First Sword of the Iron Guards. You fight against civilians and those who cannot hope to stop you. That, surely, is no true challenge, no task a warrior would relish."
    Vindicator smiled. "I see where this is going."
    "Charge?" Spiker asked.
    "No."
    Oblivious to the byplay, Fujiyama continued: "I offer you my unit as a true test! Face us, and match yourself against true warriors."
    "I am Vindicator, Commander of the Decepticon Groundpounders, feared conqueror of many worlds. Do you offer this skirmish as a proxy battle?" Vindicator called back. "A struggle for some great prize?"
    "Yes," Fujiyama replied immediately. "If we win, you and your unit will leave Nippon and never return to its shores."
    "If you beat us," Vindicator replied, "I promise that no Decepticon will ever invade Nippon again." He heard Spiker gasp, but ignored it. "If we win, Nippon surrenders without further resistance."
    "Agreed." Fujiyama heard several of his own troops gasp at that, but he knew that if the Sword failed, then there was no hope of stopping the Decepticons from conquering the world.
    Vindicator took a step forward and held up a small com-link. "Hear me, Megatron, I go into battle now for control of Nippon... if we win, the natives will surrender without further resistance; if we fail, this island is safe from any future invasion."
    "Hear me, Emperor," Fujiyama broadcast his own signal openly on widebeam like Vindicator had dome, "I go into battle now for control of Nippon...if we win, this island is pledged safe from any future invasion; if we fail, we must all surrender to the Decepticons without further resistance." He knew the Emperor would support the outcome...the demands of honour could allow nothing less.
    Vindicator turned off the comlink. "Step forward, Human, and meet your destiny"
    "Banzai!" Fujiyama shouted and he charged, followed by his troops.
    Vindicator triggered his shoulder mounted missile launchers, sending twenty short-range missiles roaring towards his foes. His arm-mounted lasers flashed to life, stabbing at the mechs as they closed.
    The rest of the Groundpounders opened fire too, firing their massed weaponry: missiles, lasers, and slug-throwers. They were designed for close-combat, and eagerly accepted the chance to pulverize a charging force.
    The Guards ran into the wall of fire, but even as some of their number fell, the rest continued to charge. Their lasers stabbed back the Decepticons, and machine guns stuttered.
    Neither side sought cover, they stood in the open, advancing steadily towards each other, firing continuously. Then the two forces collided and the slaughter was complete.
    Fujiyama used his laser to decapitate one Decepticon, but he truly had eyes only for only one foe.
    Vindicator accepted the challenge willingly, destroying any Guard he stumbled across, but hunting mainly for one foe.
    When the two commander sighted each other, they ignored their weaponry, and charged for hand-to-hand.
            *            *            *
    In Camelot, Director Kirkby turned to General Edwards and the newly arrived G.B. Blackrock and smiled proudly at both of them. "Excalibur is a complete success thus far," he announced grandly. "Just as we all promised the Council at the beginning of this crisis." He picked up a glass of champagne from the tray Gwen was holding. "The future, gentlemen, certainly looks very much brighter."