Chapter Fifty-Five (Vuxten) (1/2)
Twice on the way the building they heard the scream again. Furious, echoing, it made everyone in Vuxten's little group wince but the humans. The humans didn't seem effected by the scream although they saw and Overseer stagger out of an armored vehicle holding the head of another one, his eyes ruptured in the sockets and blood running from his eyes, ears, and nostrils. One of the humans drew his pistol, fired once, the Overseers head virtually vanishing.
They hurried to the building and once inside the scream couldn't be heard any more.
”Psychic shielding, sir,” one of the heavily armored human said. It was looking at the outside wall. ”Looks old, barely holding on. Looks like an automatic system.”
”Then we need to get these guys geared up,” Sir Bent Spoon snapped. ”Hustle it.”
The rushed through the halls. Once a Lanaktallan burst from an office, swinging a broken off chair leg dripping with blood, swinging it one of the armored humans. The chair was blocked with an arm, the other armor clad arm shooting out, the hand bent impossibly back at wrist to a right angle, the heel of the hand hitting the middle of the Lanaktallan's chest with a crunch.
The Overseer went down without a sound, sagging oddly.
”Hurry,” Sir Bent Spoon urged.
Down, into the basement. Sergeant was waiting there, next to crates. There were Overseers there, all wearing heavy helmets. All rubbing their hands together nervously.
”Line up, by your squads,” Sergeant ordered. ”You'll be issued armor, a rifle, a pistol, ammunition, survival gear, and rations. Your squad leader will train you OJT for your kit.”
Vuxten moaned and Sergeant looked. ”Problem, trooper.”
”No, Sergeant,” Vuxten said.
The Overseer looked at the crates and lifted his datapad. ”How much does their equipment cost?”
”Nothing,” the human snapped.
Vuxten felt some hope.
”We will assess value later,” the Lanaktallan harrumphed.
The hope was crushed.
The humans brought over the boxes, putting one in front of each being. Sergeant pointed at Ustor and motioned. ”Come here.”
Ustor moved up, his fur shiny with sweat. The human spun the box around.
”Troops! Undo the latches,” Lieutenant Bent Spoon snapped.
Vuxten knelt down, undoing the latches.
”Lift lid,” Bent Spoon snapped again.
Vuxten lifted the lid and, like the others, gasped. Inside were armor pieces, designed to fit a Telkan. Vuxten looked over and saw that the other races had armor that fit them. There was an equipment belt, a pistol, and a rifle all in foam. For some reason the entire thing smelled of fresh newness. It was impossible, but everything smelled as if it had just come off a factory line.
The humans helped the neo-sapients into the armor. Each piece was fit carefully, felt like it was custom molded, and covered the wearer completely. The helmets were fully padded, a neck brace and shielding for it protecting a being's neck but not restricting movement. The other joints were fine. It was slightly heavy, but seemed to be balanced.
”All right, we're going to go with basic function right now,” Lieutenant Bent Spoon said. ”Right now your radios are on automatic, only to me and your squad leaders. We're controlling who and what you can talk to. Don't be alarmed. We will teach you to use the radio as we go. The big thing is, this will protect you from fragmentation, psychic, biological, chemical, and radiation attacks as well as some small arms. No enhancements at this time.”
”Sergeant Ulganga, we have thirty minutes before we need to deploy. There's panic in the streets already but that can't be helped. Weapon familiarization, commo, whatever you can accomplish after those main two,” Lieutenant Bent Spoon said, turning away.
”We object. We have not seen what this armor can do, what these weapons can do. How can we be sure they are safe around the population?” one of the Overseers said.
”They're military grade weaponry, of course they aren't safe around the population. It's all designed to kill motherfuckers and take their shit,” Lieutenant Bent Spoon said. He made a movement with one of his armored fingers. ”Come here. Come fucking here.”
The Overseers followed Lieutenant Bent Spoon as Sergeant began showing them what to do. How the suit would protect them and make sure they have enough to breathe in the right mixtures, would monitor their medical status, would offer other advantages. Then it was weapon time. The weapon was, to use Sergeant's term: nasty.
Magnetic acceleration hypervelocity shot, set to single shot (the selector was turned off by the humans) scope tied into the visor of the helmet to display weapon status, underbarrel pump action micro-grenade launcher. The pistol was just hypervelocity magshot, again, tied into the helmet. No grenades. A vibro-knife. A canteen that absorbed and purified water from the air. Ultra-dense rations.
It went by quickly. Vuxten noticed that the rifle was virtually identical to the one he had already been taught, just the addition of the grenade launcher underneath. It was the armor that took the longest. Everyone but Vuxten was afraid of it.
But the humans had taken his family somewhere else, someplace they promised would be safe, and that they would keep them safe even if Vuxten died.
He was not afraid of anything the humans could do to him. Anything that could happen to him.
He wasn't important.
His wife and the two broodcarriers full of fertilized eggs were what was important.
He paid close attention to what he was being told, how the instructions went. He wasn't afraid, he wasn't worried, he was just calm.
The human, Lieutenant Bent Spoon, came out of the room with the Overseers, the Overseers wearing thicker helmets than before.
”All right, we've got our assignments. Rioting's started, we're going to do some light crowd control, make sure people get in the shelters the civilian contractor dropped,” Lieutenant Bent Spoon said.
”We must start with the VIP shelters. Your men can handle the other ones,” the Overseer said.
Lieutenant Bent Spoon nodded. ”We're to assist our hosts in ensuring that the VIP shelters are guarded,” he looked at the other humans. ”They jumped in across the system. we don't have the hours or days we were hoping for. We're going to have to take it as it comes.”
”How bad is it, Sir?” One of the humans that Vuxten wasn't familiar with asked.
There was silence a second. ”Oh.”
”Let's go, men,” was all Lieutenant Bent Spoon said. ”Squad leaders, take command, listen to your civilian liaisons, follow the Terran Confederacy Uniform Code of Military Justice at all times and remember its standing versus local laws.”
The human paused for a moment. ”Move out!”
”First squad, with me,” Sergeant said.
Vuxten moved over to him, other following. Three humans joined him, making the group nine total, eleven with the two Overseers.
The little group moved to outside, where a vehicle was waiting. The same open middle truck with the heavy laser cannon and the armored box as Vuxten had been trained on...
...only yesterday?
It felt like forever ago to Vuxten.
There was a Lanaktallan up front, driving. One of the two that had been inside climbed in next to the Overseer, closing the door. The other one climbed in the open bay and stood behind the pintle mounted laser cannon. Sergeant, the three humans, Vuxten and the others climbed in. Sergeant had them sit in the benches, then put two humans on one side, himself and the other human on the other side.
It had started raining again. Vuxten felt as if it was the tears of the broodcarriers, soft loving beings who cared so gently for podlings and only asked to be loved.
The vehicle pulled out, onto the rainy streets, the hoverfans spraying water across the fronts of the buildings and the walkways.
Vuxtel pushed his chin to see if it would work and the helmet beeped and pressed a tab that tasted like real fruit against his lower lip. He opened his mouth, used his tongue to put it in his mouth, and started chewing. It didn't dissolve, just was slightly sticky and felt good to chew. He liked the taste.
”Vuxten, are you all right?” Sergeant asked.
”All right, Sergeant,” Vuxten said. ”I wanted to try a nibble.”
”It's gum. You chew it until it completely dissolves,” Sergeant said. ”You don't have to keep swallowing and getting them.”
”All right, Sergeant,” Vuxten said. He kept chewing on it as the truck moved through the darkness. The others kept moving their heads like they were talking.
The Sergeant tabbed Vuxten to watch out. His biorythms were too steady, too calm, for what amounted to a civilian riding into what could be a battle after only three days of training. The Unified Medical Council claimed they took care of people, made sure they didn't suffer from psychiatric issues, but after five days he'd become convinced that they'd lie about the color of the sky.
The vehicle slowed down after half an hour, coming to a stop in front of one of the thick tubes. Vuxten had wondered, now and then, what they were. Now he understood. Doors had opened, revealing an elevator with padded seats. Overseers were waiting in line, even as a crowd slowly grew, showing their ID and being allowed inside. There was only one Lanaktallan, without armor or weapon, just a helmet. Vuxtel noticed that the Overseers inside the bunker were wearing thick headsets, even the smaller ones.
The two up front got out and went to the door, standing on either side of it. The former driver took the scanner and began scanning ID cards. The two at the door clopped over to the truck, pulled out armor, and began getting dressed. Once they were dressed they pushed their way into the crowd and set up repulsor barriers to keep the crowd from closing the gap to the elevator. Once that was done, they stood out at the entrance, directing Lanaktallans into the gap once they showed ID.
”We make sure that nobody who is not authorized goes into the shelter,” the Overseer behind the gun said to Sergeant.