Chapter Fifty-Six (Vuxten) (1/2)
It was the fight one side thought they wanted and the fight the other side didn't want to fight. To one side, victory was inevitable, simple mathematics. To the other, victory was always in doubt as fate often snatched defeat from the award show of victory and passed it out to all the participants. One was used to winning eventually, they knew nothing else. The other side knew victory and defeat, had clawed their way to every victory, building on the mountains of bones and corpses of the previous battles to plant the flag and take one last deep inhale of the breath that counts the most and scream rage at an insane universe. The other one just left the bones and bodies where they fell, the dead did not matter.
Both sides were terrible in their power. Countless systems had fallen to both side's power, efficiency, ruthlessness, and designs. They had boiled oceans, stripped entire worlds of life, decimated species, altered ecosystems, and strip mined anything that was useful to them.
While both had been defeated, neither side had ever been beaten. One side was convinced they never could be, the other side fought like the insane to keep from being beaten.
But like all wars, between the combatants and their weaponry and bloodshed, there were those who only wanted to keep their heads down and survive another day.
Vuxten had been one of those people.
A small being, Vuxten was barely four feet tall, with wide ears on the top of his head, big expressive eyes, sleek fur in a dappled pattern of brown, black, and gold, paws on his feet and hands, a wide mouth of plant chewing teeth, and a life of quiet desperation. He had a wife, who looked very much the same except for her short tail that wagged when she was nervous or excited. He had two broodcarriers, loving and gentle creatures who looked much like Vuxten except for a longer body, longer and silkier and softer fur, long soft bushy tails that could curl completely under their stomachs to protect the podlings they gave birth to.
Vuxten and his wife had worked his entire life to pay off the debts of their ancestors. Had worked hard to support their little family. Had never complained, not even privately, about their lot in life that they had been born into. He and his family had avoided unnecessary luxuries, like a Tri-D instead of a vidcom, wore paper shoes and clothing rather than purchase cloth, ate nutripaste with as little flavoring as possible, and made each credit go as far as they could stretch it.
Theirs was the life of cradling close the luxury and pleasure of finding a real leaf blown from a ruler's garden and into the street.
A small life, with sweetness to be found if one took the time to savor it and not gobble it down.
He had been quietly, desperately nearly content.
Then the Terrans had arrived.
And Vuxten found himself thrust into something far bigger than himself, bigger than his family, bigger than his entire world had been.
Which is why he found himself clad in body armor, holding onto his rifle with one hand, and standing next to a TerraSol Descent Human and staring at a street full of what had been living thinking creatures but was now covered in chunky paste and vaporized tissue, surrounded by a paws worth the coworkers and a few humans.
Ustor got her faceplate open as he bent forward and vomited up the nutripaste she'd eaten at dinner.
”Lieutenant, we've got a blue on green and a blue on pink,” Sergeant suddenly said, Vuxten hearing him perfectly in his helmet, seeing Sergeant Ulganga's name appearing on Vuxten's visor.
”Secure the area, protect the civilians, evacuate those you can. Be aware, enemy forces are in the area and/or enroute. Green forces have gone red in many areas. Refugee area coordinates incoming,” Lieutenant Bent Spoon's voice came through helmet.
”Roger that, sir. I'll keep you updated,” Sergeant answered.
Ustor wiped his mouth and straightened up.
”Chew a piece of gum, Ustor,” Corporal Laker said. Ustor nodded as her face-shield closed again. She chinned the dispenser and the pink disc popped out. Ustor used her tongue to pull it into her mouth and started chewing.
”All right, soldiers, our troopers here aren't used to the total silence that we've been trained to. Leave you commo-open on Sigma band so they can hear us talk,” Sergeant said. ”Troopers, pop a piece of gum and chew it if you have not.
Vuxten looked at each of this fellow 'troopers', their names popping up near their armor when he looked them for long.
Staring at the human Sergeant was Dutra, a Frestilek male who, like Vuxten, had ran a floor polisher for years. His rifle was hanging down from the magnetic attached sling, his face horrified, his eyes wide. The Frestilek was a biped with four arms and two legs, thick dark pebbled hide, and a small line of blunt spikes down his back. His people came from a world far away.
He was still working off his great grand-parents transportation costs.
Keekikee, an Ikeeki avian who's eggs had left on an armored transport, something heavily armed and jet black called a 'dropship', who's husband had only time to brush Keekikee's wingtips as she'd left the dropship. Her helmet was extended out to allow for her beak. She was chewing the 'gum' and staring at the window that the human Laker had thrown an Overseer through.
Across the street and thirty feet up.
Sleesavash was a saurian, a lizard people. Like the rest of his race, his tail had been amputated at birth. Like Dutra, he was paying off his ancestor's transportation cost from another world. His black eyes were wide as he started at the dead Overseers, as if he couldn't believe that they had actually been killed.
Ustor was a Telkan, like Vuxten. She was married, her broodcarriers swollen with podlings that were nearly ready to be birthed. She was grim looking, holding onto her rifle, pretending that she had not vomited.
Vuxten looked at the humans. Three of them were larger, bulkier, than the fourth. Vuxten knew the leader was labeled ”SFC Ulganga” but Vuxten and all the others called him 'Sergeant', by his title. The other three were labeled when they spoke or if Vuxten looked at them long enough.
They were humans from someplace called the ”Terran Confederacy” who had come to try to protect the solar system from the machines that even now attacked. Ancient war machines who believed that the universe's resources were finite and only one could benefit from them and so sought to eliminate any rivals.
Vuxten didn't know that much about humans. Only that they were tremendously strong, incredibly fast, and now he knew that being shot in the forehead with a heavy ion pistol didn't even move their armored heads.
”All right, everyone breathe. I'm going to try to get a handle on this greased chicken fuck,” Sergeant said.
”Keep your eyes peeled,” the human Mixin said. Vuxten's armor had an omnitranslator that struggled with what Mixin had said for a moment before displaying ”keep a highly alert watch/do not peel away parts of eyes” in the corner.
”Up high, two-o-clock,” the human Donovan said. Vuxten's armor put a flashing arrow for him to follow with his gaze.
A huge burning disk was in the sky, drifting away from the city, out toward the ocean. As Vuxten watched, lights came down from the sky, striking it repeatedly, silently. It broke into multiple pieces and more lights came out of the sky, striking the parts.
BALOR CLASS PRECURSOR RESOURCE EXTRACTION VESSEL appeared on the inside of the Vuxten's face-shield.
There was a low rumble of explosions that washed over the small group in the Lanaktallan Overseer security truck. It was explosion after explosion, overlapping and following each other, coming from miles away, shaking the air.
”Space Force and the Navy are tearing shit up,” the human Laker said, his voice soft. ”Those are battleship main battery strikes. Never seen them used to hit a target in atmosphere.”
Vuxten looked over at Mixin when that human spoke: ”I have. Actikal-Deneb War.”
”You seen it before, Sergeant?” Donovan asked.
”Yeah. Limbo-325, when I was a kid,” Sergeant said.
”Oh,” all three said.
”Enough jaw jacking, we need to get moving. The El-Tee gave me our orders,” Sergeant said. He climbing around and into the front seat. ”There's a nearby hospital, full maternity ward. Podlings, egg incubators, broodcarriers, whole nine yards.”
The hovertruck lifted off, its fans blowing water all over the street.
Vuxten noted that the liquid that hit the front of the armored shelter access was a reddish slurry.
”Sergeant, hold up,” Mixin said, slapping his armored hand against the top of the driver's cab. The truck stopped and Mixin jumped out. ”You guys help me, these barriers might come in handy.”
”You have five mikes,” Sergeant said. Vuxten's visor translated it to five minutes.
Vuxten jumped out, rushing, helping turn off the repulsor fields and loading them into the truck next to the laser cannon, which sagged forward from where it had been damaged. The rifle just magnetically attached to the back of Vuxten's armor, keeping it out of the way as he hurried and worked. They didn't have them all, but they had a lot of them, when Sergeant called time and they rushed back to the vehicle.
Vuxten had noticed that while it was an effort for him to carry one the humans had Keekikee and Sleesavash load them ten high in their armored arms and practically ran back to the vehicle.
As soon as everyone was in, Sergeant goosed the fans and the truck wailed as the fans drove it down the city streets.
The laser cannon barrage had cleared the immediate area around the shelter, but within two blocks the crowds started surging. Vuxten saw limousines and other vehicles slamming through the crowds, crushing bodies. One struck the side of the hovertruck and Mixin drew his pistol, put two shots into the windshield macroplast, blowing it into splinters, and the limousine slewed to the side, the upper half of the driver missing.
Vuxten saw that his armor had downloaded the floorplan to the hospital. Four floors were highlighted. Lanaktallan maternity ward, 'neo-sapient birthing ward', Lanaktallan pediatric ward, 'neo-sapient child ward'. The change in terms made Vuxten frown.
His visor was showing him a map from the back 'loading docks' to an elevator, to the neo-sapient ward.
”Mixin, Donovan, check the maternity ward. If the hospital doesn't have psychic shields get a grip on your guts,” Sergeant ordered. ”The rest of you will come with me up to the neo-sapients wards. We'll get a headcount, prioritize, and go from there.”
Sergeant pulled off the street, slamming the hovertruck through an alley, trying to avoid the main streets, which were rapidly becoming full of panicking beings. He went slow, pushing people with the hoverfans, cursing as he did so.
It took forever, to Vuxten, but Sergeant pulled into a parking-lot, spun the hovertruck in a 180 degree arc, and slammed the back against the loading dock.
”Leave the back locked,” Sergeant ordered. ”Let's get a move on. Laker, stay with the vehicle, see if you can scare us up a dropship or something bigger.”
The door into the hospital was marked no admittance and was locked but Mixin tore it off with one hand. Vuxten and the other 'troopers' followed Sergeant to the elevator. The elevator was pinging that it was security locked but Sergeant put his armored palm against the control panel and in less than a second it moved to ”EMERGENCY SERVICES MODE” and started moving.
”No psychic shields. This is going to be a shitshow,” Mixin said.
”Save who you can,” Sergeant ordered, his voice tight. ”Saint Doss protect them.”
The elevator stopped at the Lanaktallan and the door opened.
The Lanaktallan, heavy with child, charged into the elevator, swinging a broken off and blood length of metal. Three of her eye sockets were empty, one jowl torn away, one arm broken. Her swollen belly stretched and bulged without sense or reason, the infant inside fighting and kicking and ripping at its mother.
”Jesus Digital Christ,” Mixin yelled, slamming back against the back of the elevator as the crazed Lanaktallan tried to impale him with the metal, the jagged ended bar just sliding across his armored stomach.
Another pregnant Lanaktallan charged the elevator. The doors started closing and two more appeared, charging the closing doors.
”Don't, lady, please stop!” Mixin yelled.
There was a bright flash, then another, then two more, almost overloading Vuxten's visor. Scorched blood sprayed across Vuxten, his visor clearing instantly, covering the walls and the armor of everyone inside. The streak of light missing Vuxten by a foot, punching through the elevator wall. All four Lanaktallan dropped in place. Mixin was left half-holding the dead Lanaktallan's forward body. He made a sound of horror and threw the dead Overseer to the side.
Slee and Keek both vomited.
Sergeant had shot them all through the midsection, cutting them in half.
”We can't help them,” Sergeant said, putting his hand on the panel.
The elevator rose, the doors not quite closed.
”We'll bypass Lanaktallan peeds,” Sergeant said, his still tight.
Slee and Keek both straightened up, their face-shields closing.
Usta and Dutra were chewing rapidly and Vuxten knew they had tabbed up more 'gum' to chew on.
”Good advice,” Mixin said, his voice shaky.
”Peeds floor,” Sergeant said.
The elevator stopped at the maternity ward. The doors opened with a jerk.
An Ikeeki female clad in a neo-sapient nurse's uniform ran in screaming, holding a potted plant in her wing-hands.
”I WON'T LET YOU HURT THEM!” she screamed as she began smashing the armored humans with the plastic potted plant, frantically flailing around herself. Her eyes were wild, tears running down her cheeks and neck, and she had feathers pulled free from her torso. Debris and chunks flew into the elevator, thrown from behind a hastily formed barricade by desperate looking beings. ”NO! NO! NO!”
”Easy, lady, easy,” Donovan said, backing up. The pot was hitting him across the face and chest. Vuxten knew it wasn't hurting him, that the human was letting her smash at him with a pot.
”TERRAN MILITARY!” Sergeant snapped.
The Ikeeki jerked, dropping the plant, looking at Sergeant, who's visor was now clear. The shout stopped the hail of debris.
”Do you need assistance?” Sergeant asked, his voice soothing. Vuxten saw his visor flash ”subsonics in play” up at the top.
The Ikeeki, normally a reserved race, collapsed against Mixi. ”Help us, oh, help us. The Overseers are trying to get in and kill all the littles.”
”May we come in?” Sergeant asked.
”Please. Please,” the Ikeeki asked, still grabbing at but unable to get a grip on Sergeant's armor. ”Help us, please.”
”Donovan, go in, start prioritizing. Slee, Usta and Dutra, with them. Get me a count,” Sergeant said. ”Laker, do you read?”
”I read you, Sergeant,” Laker answered.
”You keep that loading dock clear. Authorization for lethal force, including green on blue,” Sergeant snapped.
”Roger that, Sergeant,” Laker answered. ”The Rio is dropping Marine drop pods into the city.”
The big human, Donovan, left the elevator. Ustra, Slee, and Dutra followed. The Ikeeki bobbed her head and followed, tears running from her eyes.
”Laker, get me a scan of that cargo/transport bay on that vehicle. We're gonna have a lot of kids and mothers to get to the refugee site,” Sergeant ordered as he pressed his hand against the controls and the elevator started moving again. ”Get us a kittykitty carrier and a Fido Ground Pound. They're gonna need 'em.”
The elevator went up two floors and the doors started opening.
”TERRAN MILITARY! WE'RE HERE TO PROVIDE ASSISTANCE!” Sergeant called out. Again Vuxten's visor flashed the 'subsonics' warning and his hearing was strangely muffled.
There was a small group of beings, all in hospital paper uniforms, holding onto makeshift weapons, in the elevator waiting area. They all stopped in mid-step, weapons drooping.
”Do you need assistance?” Sergeant asked, stepping out of the elevator and holding his arms to his side, his elbows bent impossibly into the interior arc, his hands open and up by his head.
”The Overseers have been trying to get in through the stairwell. Please, please help us. They want to hurt the littles and the mothers,” A Pukan said, the side of his reptilian face bruised and bloody, with an expertly but hurriedly done bandage over one eye.
”Mixi, go secure that stairwell door. Lethal force if necessary,” Sergeant snapped. He motioned at Vuten and Keekikee. ”You two, with me.”
”Roger that,” Mixi said, stepping out. ”Where's the stairwell door?”
A half-dozen beings pointed to the right and Mixi turned, heading down the hallway, pulling something off his equipment belt.
”Who's in charge?” Sergeant asked.
”She is back here. There are littles here. Podlings, chicks, squirmlings,” the Pukan with a bandage said. ”Come, come.”
”Are you here to help us?” a being asked.
”Please save us,” another asked.
”Don't let them kill us,” still another said.
Vuxten swallowed twice, trying to keep from being overwhelmed by the pleas for succor as the Pukan led the three armored beings into the neo-sapient's pediatrics ward.
Little faces were pressed against the glass doors. A glass window shows dozens of full child-pods. In one a dozen podlings were staring curiously at the trio as they moved past.
”Sergeant, Laker here,” came over the radio.
”Go ahead,” Sergeant said.