March 26th, 2184 – Automaton Flagship Ghost of Cyberstan, Tien Kwan orbit
In the days that followed my confrontation with the latest General Brasch, the war for Tien Kwan continued to unfold exactly as planned. Slowly, with enough resistance to make it seem like we were being pushed off the planet instead of deliberately pulling back, the Automaton forces began to withdraw. Valuable facilities and resources were evacuated, while millions of combat models were left behind to hold back the Helldivers and SEAF forces and make our retreat convincing.
Soon, the Ghost would leave the system, along with the rest of the Automaton fleet. Super Earth might crow and preen about its glorious victory, but the simple truth was that we had accomplished our objectives : the Exosuit factories were in ruins, beyond any hope of repair. Oh, I had no doubt the data was still out there, and the Federation must already be building new ones somewhere in its vast territory. But their deployment in the field had been delayed, hopefully long enough that by the time they were ready to be sent to the Helldivers it wouldn't matter anymore.
For now, it was time for the next stage of our strategy : an orderly withdrawal back to the prepared killing grounds of Malevelon Creek, where the Federation's own propaganda wouldn't let it avoid a fight, regardless of how little strategic sense it might make.
In war, time, soldiers and ground were all resources to be used. It was just more literal when it came to the ever-replaceable Automatons (not that Super Earth held the lives of its 'heroes' in any regard : if anything, it seemed to me that I was treating the Automatons with more care than they did their troops).
Within that framework, the defense of Draupnir would buy us more time. Unlike Malevelon Creek, which was being prepared as a killing ground meant to slaughter as many Helldivers as possible and break their corps' morale, Draupnir had been fortified with an eye toward holding for as long as possible. We were going to need that time, as the Automaton Legion was still putting into practice the lessons gleaned from the combat data acquired thus far.
I wanted the latest model of Rocket Devastators to be deployed in large numbers : their improved rocket storage allowed them to fire volley after volley without reloading, and while the upgrade cost a lot of resources, I considered it invaluable. The ability to rain down rockets at cowering Helldivers, sending them flying through the air again and again, their screams echoing across the radio to their comrades, was a potent terror weapon indeed.
Which we would need, because my attempts to break the moral of the Helldivers during the first battle of Malevelon Creek hadn't worked as well as I wished. There were still tens of thousands of Super Destroyers active on the western front of the Galactic War, and though even more were busy slaughtering Terminids by the billion in the Galactic East, the numbers had started shifting recently.
In hindsight, I should have seen that coming. Helldivers were kept frozen aboard the Super Destroyers from the moment they completed their ridiculously short 'training', after all : they didn't hear about the dreaded Devil of the Creek until they were pulled out of cryogenic storage to replace the latest martyr who had gotten themselves killed.
A part of me was horrified whenever I thought about the crews of these ships, from the technicians to the Democracy Officers tasked with ensuring compliance from their brainwashed killers. They must have had the same conversations dozens of time, whenever a new Helldiver was pulled out of storage, bringing them up to speed before sending them off to certain death. The same lines, repeated again and again, to people they would most likely never see again following them being hurled at whatever world they were orbiting in their Hellpods – shells of metal just as disposable as the 'elite' soldiers within them. What kind of mental conditioning had they been subjected to, to be able to go through such a thing day after day after day without going mad ?
I tried not to think about it too much, and focused instead on what it meant for my mission. Spreading rumors among a population with the average lifespan of a mayfly was a challenge, but not an insurmountable one. Those few Helldivers who survived their first deployment couldn't immediately return to the fight : regardless of what Super Earth's propaganda claimed, they still needed to rest, to recover from their injuries once the stims they abused so much no longer suppressed the pain. During that time, they communicated with other Super Destroyers, exchanging stories of what they had seen.
As long as I kept making regular appearances, I could keep the legends about me alive in the Helldivers' collective consciousness. Combined with the other challenges of fighting against the Automatons compared to the Terminids, eventually more and more Helldivers would choose to fight in the Galactic East – or so I hoped. As I said, the depths of the Federation's brainwashing were still surprising me. But this was the only way I'd found to make an actual impact on the war in person.
After all, it wasn't like my presence on the battlefield had an actual direct impact on the progress of the war, no matter how many Helldivers I killed with the top-of-the-line gear JOEL had prepared for me. (Though still not as ludicrously overpowered as what Super Earth gave their Brasches : I really wanted us to figure out the trick behind their seemingly-invincible energy shields, which could only be defeated by engaging in risky, nerve-wracking close-quarters combat. Sadly, the devices always self-destructed upon their wielder's demise, preventing us from capturing and reverse-engineering the technology.)
I was just one combatant, in the end : on a planetary scale, my contribution to the balance of battle was statistically insignificant. But since I had to take part in the fighting to keep JOEL satisfied of my loyalty to the Reclamation's cause, I might as well make it useful on a strategic level by creating the image of the 'Devil of the Creek'.
My duel with the latest version of Brasch Super Earth had sent after me had gone well in that regard. But even though I had won, my armor still needed repairs. Combined with the transmissions we had intercepted, in which the Federation High Command was shamelessly lying to its brainwashed puppets about how that duel had ended, I had the perfect excuse to stay safe aboard the flagship instead of killing more people in the name of Socialism.
For once, I wasn't on the bridge, but deep into the lower levels of the Ghost of Cyberstan. There was no atmosphere down there, so I was wearing a rebreather, and a black and red (of course) bodysuit which protected my still-human parts from the effects of void exposure. Its skintight nature was reminiscent of a swimsuit, but since I was surrounded by fleshless Artificial Intelligences, I didn't care too much about how it looked.
"How are you feeling, Weiss ?" I asked, using the call-sign based on his overly long and ridiculous name.
The Jet Brigade unit was being reassembled, with a new head being lowered into position and linked with the rest of his body. The chamber in which this took place resembled a cross between a mad scientist lab and a necromancer's ritual room, with crimson lights shining from the walls and ceiling, while mechanical limbs directed by the ship's collective intelligence delicately moved the skull-faced head toward the waiting socket and set the screws and other pieces of the complex machine into place.
Not that I had room to talk, what with my pale skin and cybernetic eye.
"All systems are nominal," the Automaton replied, his own eye-sockets glowing the same blood red as our surroundings. "I am happy to see you are well through my own eyes, Commander."
Weiss had already known I was fine, of course : his consciousness had been running on the Ghost of Cyberstan's hardware while his new body was being assembled. His link to the flagship had still been running where the latest Brasch had destroyed him, so he hadn't really lost anything in the process. It wasn't like a backup copy had been booted up : until the very moment his body had been disabled, his consciousness had been running on two computer systems simultaneously. Whether the philosophical concerns I remembered from my old world about the nature of consciousness applied to him in that situation was a matter I had decided not to waste time thinking about.
"I'm glad to hear you're fine as well," I told him. "This wasn't exactly what I had in mind for our first deployment together, but you and the rest of the Jet Brigade performed admirably."
"Thank you," he said. "I have a question, Commander Tanya."
"Ask," I said, suppressing a sudden feeling of wariness. I was way past worrying about killing machines asking me questions by this point.
"You have fought the Federation General Brasch three times, and killed him each time. I was under the impression humans could not continue past the destruction of their physical shell. Was I mistaken ?"
I snorted. "No, you weren't. Each of the Brasches I killed were a different person. When the second one showed up, I asked JOEL to get some DNA samples, just in case they were all clones of the same man. Now, with another instance to compare, we've been able to confirm they were all different men."
"Then … I do not understand." Weiss' voice was still as robotic as ever, but I fancied I could still hear his confusion in his tone – or perhaps that was simply self-delusion due to spending all my time surrounding by Artificial Intelligences. "General Brasch is supposed to be an important figure in the military structure of Super Earth. What purpose does it serve the Federation to have multiple people act under his identity ? Would that not cause confusion within the chain of command ?"
That was a good question, and one I'd asked myself after killing my second Brasch in the jungles of Malevelon Creek. The first one had been dispatched after I'd begun to make a reputation for myself among the Helldivers Corps deployed on that world. I hadn't been surprised that there hadn't been any public report of his demise : even back then, it'd been obvious the Federation would conceal the death of its greatest hero. But when the second one had shown up less than a week later, I'd been forced to reconsider my beliefs.
"That is because the myth of General Brasch is one of the cornerstones of the Helldivers' legend in the collective consciousness of Super Earth's population," I explained to Weiss, aware that JOEL was listening in. Things like this were the reason why the Cyborgs had decided to implement the Nephilim Project in the first place, after all. "When I first heard about Brasch, I thought he was a wholly fictitious individual, a role played by Federation actors in order to convince more recruits to join the Helldivers and throw their lives away without question. And I still think he is that, except in order to better sell the lie, Super Earth's High Command uses actual soldiers to play the part of Brasch on the battlefield."
I smiled. "Of course, the stories of their battles are only told when they win. When I fought the last two Brasches on Malevelon Creek, there weren't any surviving eyewitnesses, so the Federation could simply pretend it never happened. With this one, though, it seems some of the SEAF soldiers actually made it out alive."
I was surprised these soldiers hadn't 'valiantly perished facing the enemies of Freedom', though. Surely arranging such a thing was within the power of whoever was responsible for keeping up the charade of General Brasch's existence, and I somehow doubted it was any moral consideration holding back their hand. Yet our sources told us none of that had happened : the SEAF unit had been mauled, but its members had been reassigned, reinforced, and were even now fighting and dying elsewhere on Tien Kwan's surface. Maybe none of the soldiers had been close enough to witness the end of our duel, or maybe their leader, this Colonel Lergen who had once been the Colonial Overseer of this very planet, had friends in high places who were willing to help him avoid lethal censure.
"As for the chain of command, I doubt whoever bears the name of Brasch holds any real authority within the Federation's military hierarchy. In all likelihood, their inflated rank is purely for show."
"I see," replied Weiss. "I think I understand. Thank you for explaining, Commander."
"You are welcome. Make sure your new body is ready : I'll be relying on you once again soon."
I might be able to avoid getting deployed on Draupnir by claiming my presence would trigger a more powerful response from the Federation, which would go against our goal of buying time. But once the frontline returned to Malevelon Creek, I would have no choice but to go back to cosplaying the Terminator on the set of the first Predator movie.
… huh. Maybe, if I ever got the chance, I should check if these two movies existed in this timeline, and whether the Cyborgs took inspiration from them when designing the Automatons.
***
"Despite the loss of Number 279, the Brasch Identity Gambit will continue, as it as for the last hundred years, since the darkest days of the First Great Galactic War, when Liberty Herself was endangered. Now more than ever, we must maintain the legend created by our forebears, so that Freedom can continue to shine across the stars forevermore.
The data from Number 279's telemetric feed before his demise has already been scrubbed of sensitive information and sent to our top scientists in order to improve the specialized equipment used for the BIG. They believe that, with this information, they can correct the flaws which were used by the Devil of the Creek to kill Number 279.
Currently, we have seven candidates to replace Number 279, each of them designed by the BIG algorithms according to our forebears' criteria. They were taken out of cryogenic sleep and are being trained according to the BIG protocols within our facilities. We estimate that Number 280 will be ready for deployment before May, although it might take more time for the upgrades to his gear to be completed."
Internal communication within Super Earth High Command, March 28th, 2184.
***
"As the Automatons flee before the might of Super Earth, our efforts to cleanse the galaxy from their communist taint must continue. The people of the Xzar Sector, our brothers and sisters in Liberty's eyes, cry out for liberation from under the oppression of the soulless machines. It is a call that we shall not ignore.
Operation Rightful Exorcism has begun. All Helldivers are ordered to join the war against the Automaton threat, as our forces bravely march forward to reclaim Draupnir from their metallic claws, before pushing on to Malevelon Creek itself. There, on the ground consecrated by the blood of so many heroes, the hammer of Justice shall fall upon the techno-corrupted leader of the Automatons – the vile and cowardly Devil responsible for so many atrocities inflicted upon the Democracy-loving innocents of the Federation.
As the martyrs of Malevelon Creek bade us as they fell : 'In Liberty's name, spill oil, brothers and sisters.'"
Helldivers' Major Order strategic briefing, transmitted on April 1st, 2184.
***
"Good evening. I am your host, Coretta Kelly.
With Tien Kwan liberated from the metallic grip of the Automatons, our efforts against the mechanized monstrosities continue. The brave Helldivers are leading the charge into the systems stolen from Super Earth's loving embrace by the Automatons. General Brasch himself is leading the glorious charge, having already clashed with the leader of the Automatons, the so-called 'Devil of the Creek', on Tien Kwan.
In an interview between operations straight in the middle of enemy territory, General Brasch declared :
'No matter where the Devil runs, she cannot escape from the wrath of Democracy.'
Spontaneous military parades are taking place in every city of Super Earth and beyond, as new conscripted volunteers leave to join the ranks of the Armed Forces, ready to crush the enemies of Freedom underfoot. Meanwhile, all across the Federation, workers are celebrating this great offensive by willingly giving up on their free time in order to spend more mandatory working hours in the factories which fuel Super Earth's mighty warmachine.
Next : our experts tell you what unnecessary luxuries you can sacrifice to contribute to the war effort. Stay tuned !"
Strohmann News broadcast, April 2nd, 2184 (approved by the Ministry of Truth).
***
April 4th, 2184 – Super Destroyer Harbinger of Wrath, Draupnir orbit
Space Cadet Mary Sue looked down through the window of her ship's bridge at the slowly turning orb of Draupnir. She yearned to be back down here, smashing the mechanical enemies of Freedom, but she couldn't : the rest of the crew had very respectfully informed her that the vessel's systems were overheating and in need of maintenance, due to how swiftly she had prosecuted Liberty's Will.
It was true that Mary had performed several missions on that world already, deliberately choosing the most difficult one available each time, pushing herself and the crew of the Harbinger to their limits. Democracy Officer Jaeger was very impressed with her performance, and had personally recommended her for her swift promotion from Cadet. He had praised her dedication to Freedom, Democracy and Liberty, and Mary had felt terrible about deceiving this good man.
She held Super Earth's ideals as dear as anyone else, of course, but protecting them wasn't the reason she had thrown herself into deadly peril time and time again. She was looking for something on Draupnir, searching for the very monster that haunted the Helldivers, inspiring something which wasn't fear, for all Helldivers were fearless, but was uncomfortably close to it nonetheless.
Mary was hunting for the Devil of the Creek. She wasn't alone in that, she knew. General Brasch himself had sworn that he would slay the Automaton Commander after she'd fled their duel on Tien Kwan, and all Helldivers had been told to keep a vigilant eye out for the vile communist warmonger. But Mary's quest for the cybernetic monstrosity was more personal than most.
She knew the Devil had killed her father. He had told her so himself.
Mary knew how insane it sounded, which was why she hadn't shared it with anyone. But it was true all the same. At first, she had thought it was grief making her hallucinate, but this was more than that. From within Liberty's Embrace, where all the martyrs of Democracy slept the sleep of the righteous, her father was talking to her. Ever since that terrible letter had arrived to their family's house on Super Earth, she had heard him in her sleep, and then, after completing her training and being sent off to join Super Earth's glorious military operations against the soulless, mindless Automatons, in the heat of battle.
He was guiding her, warning her of danger, sharing his experience with her. His help was why she had done so well in the field. Now, standing on the bridge of her Super Destroyer, he was silent, but she could still feel his presence, a gentle, constant reassurance that she wasn't alone, that he was with her – and a call for her to avenge him and strike down the enemy of Managed Democracy who had murdered him.
She would have justice, Mary told herself. She would have revenge. She would kill the Devil, and let her father's ghost enjoy the peaceful rest he had earned, even if it meant not hearing his voice again until her name joined his on the Wall of Heroes.
For now, though, she needed to eat something, then sleep. There would be more enemies of Freedom to kill tomorrow.
***
April 10th, 2184 – Draupnir
Draupnir was a nightmare. When Lergen and his unit had first landed, the planet had seemed almost hospitable, despite the thin mist permeating almost everything. But within hours of their arrival, right in time for their first engagement with the Automatons, the skies had become dark, covered by a thick cloud cover that had erupted in the most violent thunderstorm the Colonel had ever seen.
Visibility was a myth, and they were all shaking inside their standard issue uniform and body armor which did little to keep the water out. Nobody was complaining, of course – they were all too patriotic to give voice to such dissidence – but Lergen could see how it affected the troops under his command. He had been feeling sick for the last three days, an affliction most of his soldiers were spared due to the fact they didn't live long enough to suffer from the planet's weather.
The SEAF had been here for a week, and it felt like a year. Lergen's unit had been reinforced numerous times, every fallen hero replaced by a fresh volunteer from one of the Federation's many worlds, equally willing to give their life for Freedom. Lergen had needed to learn the names of new officers more times than he cared to count, yet somehow, he himself had survived nearly unscathed – save for a few laser burns from a couple of close calls with an Automaton unit, which had been easily remedied with a stim injection, and a rocket exploding close enough that the shrapnel had ripped his right hand off. That particular injury had required his removal from the frontline for six hours so that the medics could clean the wound, put a mechanical prothesis in its place, cover it with a glove so as not to risk being mistaken for an Automaton spy, and send him back where he belonged.
He had no idea how he had been so lucky, but he wasn't questioning it. So long as he lived, he would do all he could to fulfil his duty to the Federation. Which, right now, meant organizing another million-strong charge across the frontline, coordinating with dozens of other Colonels as well as the artillery commanders. It was an administrative nightmare, but still preferable to the rush through no-Freedom's-land between armies that would follow in a couple of hours, once the sun set (the Ministry of Truth had told them that the Automatons' inferior optic sensors didn't work in the dark, and Lergen trusted them, even if he hadn't noticed any difference himself).
The one good side in all of this, the Colonel reflected, was that least there had been no sighting of the Devil of the Creek. Perhaps Brasch had harmed her more than Lergen had thought when they had clashed on Tien Kwan. The Helldivers were able to operate across Tien Kwan without needing to worry about the Automaton Commander finding them and taking her anger at her loss at Brasch's hand upon them. Thanks to their courageous exploits deep behind Automaton lines, sabotaging factories, eliminating communication networks and activating the hidden ICBMs which were constructed on every Federation planet, the Liberation of Tien Kwan was progressing rapidly.
He just hoped he would live long enough to see it, greedy though the thought may be. Lergen was aware that living through the campaign to reclaim Tien Kwan had already been more than most SEAF recruits got, and certainly more than someone like him, who had failed Super Earth in so grievous a fashion by losing the planet in the first place, deserved. But, despite his best efforts, his mind still festered with weaknesses he did his best to hide, so as not to let them infect the troopers around him.
After all, they deserved a commanding officer worthy of the name. Lergen would just have to live up to that image as best he could.
***
"Despite the Major Order calling for all Helldivers to join Operation Rightful Exorcism and the repeated declarations of Operation Valiant Enclosure's resounding success, 64.785% of active Super Destroyers remain committed to various systems in the Galactic East, keeping the fascist Terminid hordes at bay.
This is unacceptable. All Democracy Officers are hereby ordered to redouble their efforts to ensure the Helldivers assigned to the Super Destroyer under their jurisdiction understand the will of Managed Democracy and reach the correct conclusion regarding their ship's deployment in the ongoing special military operations."
Memo from the Ministry of Truth addressed to all Democracy Officers assigned to the Super Destroyers of the Helldivers Corps, dated April 12th, 2184. Acquired by ELIA and transmitted to JOEL on April 16th, 2184.