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Dark Lord Substitute

Chapter 16

By Draconicon

As soon as they popped in over Erden, they deployed fighters. The smaller vessels screamed out from their carrier craft, burning fuel faster than usual to breach the planet's defensive perimeter before Allied squadrons could find them and sound the alarm. Shouts echoed across the Indomitable, mostly from the officers that were coordinating the Indoctrinated squadrons that were responsible for seeing it done.

Bertram heard none of it. He was in a drop pod alongside forty rats, two other hyenas as sub-officers, and was armed with a rifle, a pistol, and several other weapons that he didn't recognize from the basic training that he'd overseen all those weeks ago. They'd been fitted to his armor with the help of his council, and Mark had said something about how they worked, but that had all flown out of his head by that point.

Data? he thought.

Yes, sir?

Is the assault going well?

Yes, sir. It seems to be going in our favor, numerically.

And the enemy?

I am unable to tell from here, sir.

That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He would have liked to hear that there was no alarm sounded, that they were going to land without any warning that they'd entered the system. Of course, the ram knew that there was no way that they were going to be that lucky, but he could still hope against hope that they would.

The rest of the soldiers probably had no idea that he was terrified out of his wits, thanks to the black armor that he wore. The helmet in particular helped maintain that stoic silence, even as every passing second reminded him of the stupidity of this decision. He wasn't even sure why he had decided to go along with the ground soldiers; all he knew was that it had seemed like a good idea at the time, particularly since there were better officers than him to lead the space assault.

Truth be told, there were better officers to lead the ground assault, too. Which was why he was just taking this as a morale point, he supposed. He would go down, the armor would protect him, and then they would see that their leader was willing to fight alongside them, rather than staying in his ship in the safety of space.

Theoretically speaking, it is sound...but I am still an idiot.

Too late to back out now, though. He had to go along with it. He could feel the Indomitable coming around, the ship facing towards the planet at this point more than likely. Bertram took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down, but...well...

You're in armor that is almost impossible to break. This dropship is made for atmospheric entry. The plan is to strike fast, hit the capital, spread across the retreat points before they know we're here. We'll have every leader of Erden and the Deep Den in one fell stroke, and then this part of the war will be over.

That was the plan. He kept telling himself that it was a good plan.

"Dropping in thirty seconds," said the voice of an officer that he didn't know over the intercom. Bertram gritted his teeth beneath the helmet, bracing himself. He knew that this was going to happen. He knew that he had to show some strength for the men. He knew -

Oh, he knew he was going to throw up. Oh, he was probably going to make a mess.

Data. If I throw up, will it stay in the helmet?

No sir. Suction will take it away.

Thank you. Map.

The display on his HUD shifted, showing a map of the projected landing site. It was just outside the planetary capital, which also served as the regional capital of the most heavily populated region of the planet. The capital city, Seila, sat in the middle of a wide plain, very difficult to defend from the ground. Roads for land-powered vehicles were combined with various skypaths to guide aircraft in.

Other icons, to the north and south of the city, showed where Mark and Zelda were going to land. It was meant to be a pincer maneuver, cutting off the ground transport out of the city, while the orbital force rained down destruction through the skypaths. It would hopefully deter anyone from trying to fly their way out of the city. Hopefully.

"Dropping."

And then they fell. Bertram managed to not to scream as his stomach leaped into his throat, feeling the gravity of the planet below seizing them in an iron fist as they fell faster, faster, faster. The worst turbulence that he'd ever felt in his life seized hold of the rustbucket around them, and every feature suddenly felt like a structural flaw around him.

We're going to die. We're going to die.

As the unhealthy mantra repeated itself in the back of his head over and over again, he looked out the view panel. The curve of the planet below slowly rose up, replacing the emptiness of space with the presence of a planet. Eventually, the view was completely consumed by the view of the low-elevation continents below. Few mountains rose up past the thousand foot line, mostly remaining hilly. There were lakes here and there, and the planet itself seemed to lean more towards long canyons rather than highlands and mountains.

It was nothing more than random thoughts, extraneous details, but that was all he could take right then. He was doing his best not to scream.

His soldiers were doing better than him. Some of them were already planning what they were going to do when the planet was taken. Some placed bets about what would happen to the locals (most thought that they were going to be treated pretty well, though some thought that he planned on being rougher with these slaves). Still others were silent, checking their weapons, their loadouts, doing their last-minute rituals before battle.

He wished that he had that same confidence to do that.

One of the hyena officers looked out the view panel and promptly cursed.

"Enemy aircraft! Brace yourselves!"

He'd barely had the chance to look out the transparent chunk of wall before he saw it: a missile coming right for them. Bertram didn't even get the chance to curse after that.

He pulled himself from the wreckage. The last-minute booster jets had saved most of the unit, though a handful of rats and one of the hyenas hadn't made it through the landing. Those that had were damaged, ranging from simple scratches for the lucky to a broken limb for the unlucky.

Bertram was the only one untouched, and he only had his armor to thank for that. He groaned as he dragged himself out of the burning hulk, shaking his head.

" How much of a unit do we have left?" he asked his remaining officer.

"Mmmph...all told, twenty rats, me, and you, Dark Lord."

" ...Not much. But it will have to do."

A quick check of the HUD confirmed that Mark and Zelda hadn't landed just yet. Glancing towards the heavens showed that their dropships were coming down, but they were still minutes from touching down. A third flick of his head towards the capital city - raised up by a couple dozen feet by a low-level rock foundation - confirmed that they didn't have a few minutes to wait. The garrison was already pouring out in force, with hover-tanks and lighter vehicles coming free of the city limits, and rumbles from underground warning of other, larger defenses beneath the soil.

Bertram unslung his rifle from his back. He remembered that there were multiple modes, but mostly, that the ammunition was designed to be painful. Very painful. He made sure that it was ready to fire, then nodded at the hyena.

" Follow me."

That was all that needed saying. Doing something, it turned out, was a great way to make the fear monster shut up for a while.

This is miracle armor, Bertram thought, holding one gauntleted hand against his chest. Pity that more people aren't wearing it...

He looked back at his unit. Charging forward had seemed like the only possible way out of their deathtrap, and it turned out to be right, though more through luck than planning or skill. The dark armor of the Dark Lord had pulled all firepower in his direction, seemingly calling every tank, every scout, every member of their infantry to shoot at him and try and bring him down right then and there. It had been a miracle that his armor had stood up to it, and even then, he had been completely paralyzed as they kept shelling him and blasting him from all directions.

The lucky part of that was that they had been so consumed with the urge to destroy him that the rest of the unit had been able to take free potshots at the entire assembled enemy without being targeted themselves. He had watched from within the explosions as one by one, the forces of the Deep Den were gunned down, blown to bits. Not once, even when their allies and comrades were falling, did they turn or take a shot back to defend themselves. They were completely focused on him.

Almost like they're on a script, too...

That was not a thought that bore much thinking about.

With the last of the enemy cleared via an orbital bombardment just ahead of them, Bertram and the remnant of his unit - down to the hyena and fifteen rats now - had made it into the city. They were cut off from retreating, but they were in the city. His helmet map showed that Zelda and Mark were making their way to the city borders, cutting off any further deployment, securing the borders of the capital. Nobody else would be making any escapes, now.

Unfortunately, this was where things would get messy. They had the capital quarantined, and reports were coming through via Data that the rest of the planet was faring similarly. However, they were at the point of clearing the city street to street, and from what he remembered from his research of history, this was where things started getting bloody.

And I'm not using myself like bait again, he thought, shaking his head as he flexed his arm. The armor groaned, hesitating to be used. The last barrage had probably done more damage than he had credited it with, and it might not withstand much more.

He had never, ever wished for the Indoctrination of the Indomitable to have more range, but as it stood, there was no directing that force down here. Not when it needed to coordinate the planet-wide assault. The soonest that it could direct that mind-control effect against the capital would be in six hours. Until then, they had the choice to dig in, or -

Kaboom!

An explosion rocked the street just behind them, several aircraft flying low over the buildings around them. Bertram gritted his teeth as he watched them go by, shaking his head as they circled round.

That was the problem. The capital was the worst of it, but all the city garrisons had aircraft that they could scramble. Bertram's forces had an edge on the ground, but against aircraft, they had very little. They were sitting ducks. Sure, they had already ensured that they were going to win, but for the next six hours, the air force of Erden would be free to basically take pot-shots at them, picking off their forces one by one.

Would it change anything? Just the body-count.

We can pull in close to the buildings, make it too risky to shoot at us with civilians around...

Kind of evil, that, but it would keep the Deep Den forces on their toes. He gritted his teeth in annoyance; he didn't like playing the villain to this extent, but if it kept his men alive, he'd do it.

" Into the apartments. Find a station."

If they could find some tunnel, some sort of transit station - and he imagined that in a place that was the capital of the Deep Den, there had to be a lot of underground transit - then they could push deeper. And if they could get far enough, he hoped that they might be able to take down communications for the enemy. Or even get to the airbase.

"You heard the Dark Lord. Move," the hyena shouted.

They moved, alright. Right into another deathtrap.

Bertram groaned under another pile of rubble. His helmet fizzled with static, which could only mean that there was more damage to the armor than he'd thought. The ram could hear little crackles of speech coming through, but not much more than that.

Worse, he didn't hear any of his men. The best he could hope for was that they were on the other side of the rubble pile, still safe.

Seeing the hand of a hyena sticking up through the rock near him, he didn't have any great hopes for that.

It happened so fast. They'd been rushing through the tunnels, pushing forward. The enemy had not been ready for them, or so it seemed. Bertram alone managed to cut down thirty defenders with the weapons they'd been given. His team had done even better, pushing the enemy and their underground armored units further back. It had seemed to be going so well.

Then they'd heard a beep, and then...

Booby-traps...I should have expected that...

The ram groaned again as he tried to move and failed. The armor didn't want to respond. Whatever had happened to it, it didn't want to work anymore. He couldn't even lift his arm. All he could do was turn his head.

" Mmmph...Data..."

There was no response. Either his connection was utterly fucked, or it wasn't able to give him their responses. He was able to view a flickery battle map, showing that Mark and Zelda had made some progress towards the city center, but not much. The enemy, however...

Well, they know I'm here...

Red dots were slowly converging on his position, tunneling in from below and coming in from the air. He could make out troop transports keeping low, flying in reinforcements from the center of the city, sometimes outright ignoring the oncoming threat of the two generals in favor of heading right for him.

Definitely know I'm here...

If things held true from what he'd read, if they caught him, that was the end of the war. He'd lose, then be executed, and the Deep Den would go back to what it had been before he'd been pulled into this world. All the work that he'd done, all the Indoctrination that he'd accomplished, all the shifts in the species-based semi-slavery that had existed before he'd come around, would be undone.

Of course, the most immediate problem there was him dying. He wasn't ready for that. Not yet.

" Generals Twist. I am currently in danger. Please respond."

There was nothing, no vocals, nothing. He groaned, rolling his head back against his helmet. The armor refused to move.

" Data. Data, can you hear me?"

There was something. A crackle, a squeak. Something. Hoping that the interference was only on his end, he continued.

" I am pinned down and the armor is damaged. Reroute all forces possible to my location."

He just had to hope that something got to him before the enemy did. He looked at the map again. Zelda was closer to him, maybe a kilometer to the south, and Mark was three times that distance away. The enemy had converged on him, a couple hundred infantry units and a few armored groups, too. What looked like a full squadron of aircraft hovered around the city block above, too, putting a solid wall of defense around those units assigned to take him out.

Great...

And then the map went out. What little power the armor still had fizzled, and he was suddenly aware of the sheer weight that it had. He groaned, passing out.

#

Ting ting.

Ting ting.

The sound of something tapping against his helmet made him open his eyes. Badgers swarmed all around him, all wearing the Deep Den brown and orange. Some had their rifles pointed down at him, while others were using various plasma torches to try and cut him out of the armor.

This doesn't count. They can't capture me while I'm still in the armor, he imagined. But without the suit being powered up, he couldn't speak. He couldn't say anything. Probably for the best, considering the script stupidity so far.

One of the badgers leaned back, wiping his forehead.

"It's not coming open," he said.

"You better find a way to get it open. Otherwise, we're gonna be slaves by nightfall," one of the others said.

"Well, unless you can figure out a way to crack it, I'm done. Let's get it back to headquarters; we've got more tools at the base."

Shit, shit, shit...

Before he could try and come up with a brilliant idea, however, something hummed. Something in the throat of the armor. He felt it warm against his neck, and then he heard...himself.

" This armor has an emergency release switch," his voice said, even though he hadn't said anything. " If you want me to tell you where it is, then I suggest you have something to offer."

The badgers all looked down at him in shock. They must have thought that he was completely unconscious, helpless. It was a shot in the arm to see them jump back in fear, but...but who...

It's not me, but it's someone that thinks like me, sounds like me.

"I thought he was taken care of; I thought that it was dead," the second, more commanding badger said. "Why's it talking?"

"Fuck if I know...fuck, fuck, fuck, this is not good."

" Indeed. You still face the Dark Lord of the Void," Bertram's suit said. " But I am not...unreasonable. Give me a reason to spare you."

"You little - you're broken," the commander said. "You can't do anything. Can he?"

"Don't look at me."

"Look. You're beaten. Surrender, and maybe we won't execute you."

" You must think that I am remarkably stupid."

"We beat you. We trapped you!"

" A regrettable half-truth. You beat me, yes. Trapped...that is in the eye of the beholder."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

" You should not have let me talk."

Are you okay, sir?

Data? Bertram asked, blinking. How did you -

I told you, sir. I have been studying you.

Very well, apparently.

Thank you, sir. Now. Prepare for impact.

Impact?

The answer came a split-second later as one of his tanks came blasting through the wall. It was a large, rolling thing, more like a boulder that had retractable weapons than anything else. It rolled past the various badger units, followed by a dozen more. Thirteen of them formed a circle around the Deep Den units, opening up a total of six different weapon barrels from each sphere, pointed at the badger combatants.

"This is General Mark Twist. You are surrounded. Step away from the Dark Lord, or we will open fire."

The commander of the badgers tried it, and was immediately blown to pieces. He turned white, black, white, and disappeared.

"I repeat. Step. Away. From the Dark Lord."

The rest of the badgers obeyed after that. Bertram sagged into the suit in relief.

As Mark took care of the situation, dispatching infantry from the tunnels to take the badgers away, Bertram focused his attention back on Data. The AI had come to save him in the nick of time, and brilliantly, at that. He owed the AI his life.

How did you do that?

There was residual power in our connection. I channeled that into the voice modulator. Sufficient studies of your speech patterns allowed me to emulate you.

That's...brilliant.

Thank you, sir. General Twist knew your location before I sent it to him. He moved as fast as possible to secure you.

And Zelda?

The other General Twist is somewhat reluctantly on her way. She did not change course until she was ordered to by me and her brother.

As expected. She had decided that it was time for him to pass. Whatever her motivations, she had completely stepped over the line, this time. As his soldiers came forward, collecting him and helping him to stand, Bertram started making plans for how to punish her for this.

The End

Summary: Bertram helps lead the assault on the ground, only to find out that things are a lot harder than he thinks.

Tags: No Sex, Ground Battle, Sci-Fi, Ram, Hyena, Badger, Rat, War, Series, Death, Fear,