Chapter Fifty-Three (Vuxten) (2/2)
The human didn't move, his mechanical eyes staring at the 'CorpSec' forces in front of him.
”I would explain to you how 'men' is a term of respect but I think it would be lost on you and I would be explaining it to your later generations, vainly attempting to get them to understand something beyond their actual comprehension,” the human said slowly.
Vuxten felt like the human was staring into his eyes, like somehow the human was staring right through his face shield and into his eyes, trying to stare inside of the Telkan's soul.
”Listen, and understand, all of you,” the human said, his voice low, urgent, and full of urgency. ”Those Precursors are out there. They can’t be bargained with. They can’t be reasoned with. They don’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And they absolutely will not stop, ever, until all of you are dead. Many of you still don't get it. You can't fight them how you are now. You can't hide from them. They'll find you. That's what they do. That's all they do. Right now, you can't stop them. They'll wade through your armies, reach down your mate's throat, and pull their fucking heart out.”
The Overseers shrunk back. Three fainted, falling over. The beings like Vuxten in that armor drew back in fear at the words, at the intensity in the human's cybernetic eyes, at the low menace in his voice where his words rang true in a way they had never heard before.
”Right now, you can't survive. You have to survive if you want your families to survive,” the human said. He turned to the Overseers. ”If you want to survive, they have to survive. You need to allow me to teach them to kill and destroy the enemy if you wish them to survive.”
He turned away and started to walk away. ”I am going to discuss options with my command. I will return shortly, you should decide if you want to survive.”
Vuxten watched him walk away.
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Vuxten was eating in the dining hall when the human suddenly sat down next to him. Instead of turning the seating and sitting down he threw one leg over the back and sat down, putting his hands on the table, his back straight.
”You are Vuxten, if my implant can be relied upon,” the human stated.
”Yes, Overseer,” Vuxten answered.
”Call me by my title, Sergeant,” the human stated.
Sergeant... the word sounded menacing and tasted faintly of ozone and something bitter to Vuxten's tongue.
”Yes, Sergeant,” Vuxten said.
”How long have you been with CorpSec?” The human asked.
Vuxten remembered what he had been told to say. ”Ten of your years, Sergeant.” It was easy to remember to use his title instead of Overseer.
”Seen any action?” Sergeant asked.
”Action?” Vuxten set down his eating implement. It was never easy to eat and talk at the same time. To pay attention to the meal and the conversation going on.
”Combat. You seen any combat?” Sergeant asked.
”Yes,” Vuxten said honestly. He'd seen it on the Vid before.
”How long, in the field, does it take your Gamtek Magnetic Accelerator Rifle to cool off once the mag-coils shut down?” Sergeant asked.
”Um,” Vuxten said, wishing he had an implant to query.
”Mm-hmm. How long does the standard water allotment you carry last you during combat operations?” Sergeant asked.
”Um,” Vuxten said. Having fur meant if he got hot he sweated enough that his fur was soaked. He needed a lot of water. ”Two?”
”Mm-hmm,” Sergeant said again, nodding. ”What's the maximum effective range of an excuse?”
Vuxten thought hard, wondering if the human's omnitranslator had made a mistake. ”Uh, seven?”
”Very good, Vuxten. I'll make a trooper of you yet,” the human said. He got up, reversing the move, then turned and left.
Vuxten returned to his meal, wondering what that was all about.
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Vuxten watched the human argue with the armored Overseer. Vuxten actually recognized the Overseer, the Third High Most of the Corporate Security Division. Vuxten often was ordered to buff the expensive off-world tiles in the Overseer's office. He was too far away to hear what was being said but he could tell by the way the Overseer's tendrils shivered and trembled, how it was blowing and shaking its jowls, that it was agitated.
The human moved over to the Overseer that was in charge of the holographic targets, handing that Overseer a small data-wafer. The Third Most High barked out to the target handler to not take the wafer.
The human grabbed the control for the holo-targets and Vuxten stared.
The human had been like a striking snake. Almost blurry, and had deftly twisted and pulled the control away as if the Lanaktallan hadn't been holding it with three hands. The human looked the control over and slotted the data-wafer, activating the hologram.
There were screams and a rush for the door when a large blocky Precursor machine popped up, draped in the torn free skin, fur, and feathers of its victims. Blood dripped from its claws, ran down its forward chassis, and flesh, fur, and feathers were stuck in the treads.
”AT EASE!” the human bellowed, a primate roar of dominance and command.
Every being immediately went still. Some crouching.
Vuxten noted that the three closest Overseers clutched their heads in all four hands and fell down, kicking and drooling and making noises of distress. The other three grabbed their heads and staggered away, mooing in pain.
Vuxten tasted blood and something metallic and sour and bitter.
”Get back on the firing line, damn you,” the human snapped. His eyes glowed bright blue. He touched his implant. ”Medics to Firing Practice Range Seven.”
Every being rushed to the firing booths, some dropping their weapons when they went to pick them up.
”This is a light armored Precursor attack vehicle,” the human started.
”What about the...” one of the others said.
”They're incapacitated, knocked out, injured, maybe even dying or dead, but you worry about yourself and the men on your right and left,” the human snapped. He pressed a button and the treads began rolling, throwing up a spray of blood and body parts. A couple creatures screamed.
”GET ON THE FIRING LINE, DAMN YOU!” the human roared.
Those beings who had started moving toward the wall were suddenly more afraid of the human that the hologram. They rushed back up, putting their elbows on the tabletop.
”Open fire!” he roared.
The shots started. Slow at first, picking up volume. At least they could hit the massive machine. The human walked back and forth, commenting, giving encouragement.
”KEEP FIRING!” he yelled when some beings ran out their magazine. ”DON'T STOP UNTIL I TELL YOU!”
Vuxten's weapon overheated halfway through the second magazine, shutting down.
”You're dead. Stand by the wall,” the human said. Vuxten went to the wall. One by one more beings went to stand by the wall.
Vuxten watched Medical Emergency and Injury Overseers carry away the injured Overseers on hover-transports, glaring suspiciously at the human. Vuxten noticed that the Overseers had bled from their ears and nostrils.
Finally everyone was on the wall.
”It advanced one hundred meters and you all had dead weapons that will not fire until they are completely cooled down,” the human stated. He held out his hand and one of the beings against the wall handed him the weapon.
Vuxten watched in amazement as he quickly took it apart, without even instruction, pulling it into small pieces. He held up coils, wires, circuitry, all kinds of stuff, staring at it with his blue eyes, rolling it between his fingers. Vuxten was even more amazed that he put it back together, ran some kind of check on it, and handed it back. He touched his implant, his eyes dulling for a moment, then he turned to the gathered up beings.
”We're going running. Fill your water allotments,” he ordered. ”Full armor, carrying your weapons.”
Vuxten felt his muscles hurt already.
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TO: General Rickers, V CORPS TRADOC
FROM: SFC Ulganga, Maynerd Kikit, TERCONMIL Army (Old Metal)
Local forces are more than poorly trained. I suspect that these beings were not actually CorpSec, despite the paperwork they filed with TRADOC. Most of them barely know how to hold their weapons and most of them can barely put their armor on.
I suspect these beings were on some other kind of work but listed as security forces on paperwork, allowing the plant manager or some other official to pocket the difference between security force payments and whatever shift they were actually on.
Weaponry is several decades, possibly centuries old. Found serious age-related defects to weapon components. Will be inspecting vehicles tomorrow.
I need some metal to back these guys up. Sparing that, I'm uploading the physical profiles of the ”CorpSec” troopers they have been showing me, scanned with my cyberoptics. I'll need at least weaponry and basic armor.
Sir, these guys are the only thing protecting this whole city. We know the Precursors are on the way. This is a city of 22.5 million.
-------NOTHING FOLLOWS--------