Chapter One-Hundred (Vuxten) (2/2)
”Same here,” Vuxten said. ”My podlings swam in the lake.”
”I wouldn't recommend taking them now, trooper,” the Gunny said.
”No, sir,” Fotlan said as a few people chuckled or flashed icons of amusement to replace their own icons for a moment.
Vuxten blocked it all out, keeping a watch all around him. According to his map he should almost be at the lake, but the vegetation was getting close to the point he was having trouble moving forward.
”Gotta switch to my cutting bar,” Vuxten said, slapping the flame thrower nozzle against his leg to attach it. He pulled the 'cutting bar' off his back, which was basically a chainsaw with a graviton generator in the hilt to balance it that some troops called a chainsword.
It was listed, officially, as 'powered foliage cutting tool.'
Vuxten thumbed the switch and it roared to life, emitting smoke as the engine used the hydrogen and the oxygen in the air to run the pistons, leaving water to drip out. The vegetation snapped at his armor, spikes and vegetation teeth sliding along the warsteel of his armor. A vine snapped against his crysteel visor (after a scouting run by an uplifted 'Simp-Chimp' had shown that plasteel and duraplas could be easily melted, all the visors had been swithed) hard enough that his ears popped, a branch slapped him hard enough he took a step back, another vine wrapped around his arm and when he yanked on it he pulled a huge pufferball against himself.
The Marine behind him was washing fire over him about every two steps.
Finally he slashed across a curtain of vines, dropping them to the ground, and stomped through them, glad of the Terran armor, which was completely environmentally sealed.
The lake was covered in algae, thick purple algae with weird onion-like reddish shapes bobbing in the water. Spores drifted over the lake, twinkling yellow, green, red. Veins ran through the algae, thick and pulsating. An island in the middle was covered in moss that bulged and throbbed with obscene life.
”Bring up the flame...” the Gunny started to say.
”GET BACK! EVERYONE GET BACK!” Vuxten yelled, breaking onto the channel at the same time as he flexed muscles that didn't exist through his cyberlink. He two shoulder mounted weapons deployed, the rounds whining as they reconfigured. Vuxten took a single step back as his two shoulder mounted weapons went into rapid fire, his eyes already tracking and marking targets even as he spoke.
Six rockets into the island and all twelve of his 40mm grenades into the water.
”GET BACK! WATCH THE FLANKS AND REAR! EVERYONE FALL BACK TEN METERS!” the Gunny roared.
The island exploded, revealing heavy chitin as the creature inside roared in pain and began to stand up, the hypergrowth algae blanket sliding off of it. It was standing inside a fifty foot lake and still had close to hundred feet of body above the water, burning patches on its back from where the rockets had gone off against the fibrous mat and the explosive forged penetrators of duralloy had driven deep into the body.
The grenades exploded in the water, fountaining chitin and blood into the air.
A dozen creatures burst from the mud and algae at the edge, unfolding bladearms and clacking huge jaws that drooled with acid. They rushed Vuxten, their genetic programming telling them that the little black creature in front of them would run away like all prey did.
Vuxten didn't bother trying to switch out weapons, he just took a single step forward, satisfied the ground around him was solid, and swung the chainsword with one hand even as his other hand dropped to his hip out of reflex, pulling out his 10mm magack pistol. Behind him he could hear, and a split second glance behind him, showed him that the warborgs and the Terran Marines were struggling with massive creatures that had moved silently through the jungle, pacing them, until the time to spring the ambush was ripe.
Except Vuxten's warning had given the Marines an entire two seconds warning.
”MY POLDINGS PLAY HERE!”
Giving out a Terran roar of pure aggression he began hacking at the waist high creatures that swarmed from the mud, firing his pistol as he used the warsteel barrel to block drooling mouths of fangs, blowing apart the skulls in a shower of blood, gore, and shattered chitin. The blade bit deep and he squeezed it to full power, shredding the ones in front of him. He slashed and stabbed, following his close quarters combat drills that had been hammered in him exhausting day after exhausting day on the hot tarmac of the Marine Training Base.
”GET! FUCKED!”
His rocket pack reloaded, the creation engine running hot, and he cut loose with all six rockets again in a blinding flashing ripple, the missile reconfigured for explosive penetrators. The huge creature shrieked as the rounds burned meters into its flesh before exploding, blowing massive craters in its torso. Its eight red eyes fixated on Vuxten and it began rushing the little Marine.
”YOGAWTNUTTIN!”
Vuxten was busy stepping on the dead, climbing up them and swinging his chainsword, still roaring out Terran phrases he'd learned that long lifetime in the city in scout armor. The crab-like creatures still used their powerful back legs to climb over their dead even as Vuxten killed them. Some climbed on his arm and he either put the pistol against the small faces under the top shell and pulled the trigger or sliced them off his arm with his chainsword, the teeth throwing sparks against the warsteel of his own armor.
His grenade launcher fired again, overriding the minimum safe distance, and blowing huge gouts of mud and water up into the air, chitin and blood mixed in to rain down.
A glance showed him that his own two squads were in the fight, firing grenades into the jungle even as they used their smart-links to direct their fire from their magack rifles.
The big creature roared in agony and rage as it kept rushing through the hip deep water. Vuxten was almost covered in the mound still fighting, the dead and living crab-things up to slightly above his waist, even as he fired the pistol as fast as the bolt could shave off a piece of duralloy from the block of it in the magazine. He'd fired over a hundred times, the block halfway shaved away, and still he kept shooting, overriding the heat warning in the barrel of the pistol.
”BRACE!” one of the warborgs shouted at him.
The fuel-air grenade went off right above him, blowing the dead and living crab-things away from him.
The huge monster reached down and grabbed him, lifting him up. He heard his armor alarms ring as he creature squeezed him in one hand.
He fired rockets point blank into its chest, shot it through the top of the mouth, and, following his training, thrust his chainsword into the joint of the thumb and hand, sawing back and forth.
Gore fountained out and covered him as the hand opened and he was dropped to the ground. He landed like he'd been taught. Heel, backside, shoulders.
His grenades, still fuzed for impact, fired off four times before the weapon jammed. The grenades went off on the creature's chest even as he slammed the pistol against the launcher on his shoulder. The grenade launcher clacked shut and chuffed out the other two grenades as Vuxten got to his feet.
The monster collapsed. It started to rise when Vuxten stepped forward, drew back his arm, and thrust his chainsword between the creature's nostrils, the blade screaming and smoking as it tore off pieces of chitin and sprayed tissue over him.
It coughed and collapsed, but Vuxten held onto his weapon as his grenade and rocket launcher reported fully loaded. His engine was at 60% heat and 20% slushed since he'd had it running on rapid reload.
He fired three times into the face with his pistol.
The fighting behind him had stopped.
Vuxten jumped up, activated his graviton generator, and slammed into the head with his boots as if he was 2 tons hitting in 5G gravity.
The head exploded.
Vuxten stepped slowly back, breathing heavy, his limbs trembling. It took his twice to get his pistol holstered.
”Permission to call in artillery, Sergeant?” Vuxten asked the Gunnery Sergeant. ”The lake is some kind of spawning pool now.”
”How did you know, Corporal Vuxten?” one of the warborgs asked.
”I took my podlings here last month. There was no island in the lake,” Vuxten said, suddenly feeling exhausted. His armor loaded a stim into his veins and the fatigue washed away.
”Good eye, trooper, good eye,” The Gunnery Sergeant said. ”Everyone fall back, it's gonna rain in two minutes.”
Vuxten gave a yawn to pull in oxygen and turned around.
”Vuxten, take point,” The Gunnery Sergeant said. ”Take us home.”
Home.
Brentili'ik was looking over the morale of the shelters. So far everyone was nervous, the biggest fear was that the military couldn't keep away what the rumor mill was claiming were monsters landing from space.
An icon pinged to life and Brentili'ik tapped it. It was a morale fluctuation alert. Something was raising morale.
A picture appeared and Brentili'ik inhaled and gave a sharp squeal of distress.
It was a black armored figure, half buried by obscene scary looking things that looked like huge crabs had suddenly grown powerful triple jointed jumping legs and their claws were five times the size they should be. It had a toothed bar in one hand, laying about it, and was firing a pistol with the other.
The icon above the head said ”CPL VUXTEN, 1st TELKAN MARINES”
There were dozens of the crabs, all trying to tear her husband's life away.
As she watched laughing icons, giggling icons, were floating up the edges, along with hearts that popped into sparkles, icons denoting hysterical laughter.
People were laughing at her husband fighting for his life.
Harvey suddenly burst out in laughter behind her.
She whirled around and glared at the big human by opening her eyes as wide as possible, putting her hands on her hips. ”What is so funny? That is my husband fighting for his life.”
”Read the text,” Harvey chuckled.
She turned around, at the terrible picture of her husband fighting dozens of half-crustacean half-insect creatures. It took a second, she had to physically step back, to see the writing. On the top it said ”WORKER VUXTEN, YOU ARE FINED ONE DAY'S PAY” on the bottom it said: ”FOR UNEXCUSED TARDINESS TO WORK”
She could only goggle at the text and the picture, her brain unable to comprehend what she was seeing and why it was funny.
Harvey snickered again.
Another one came up, her husband held tight by the massive six fingered hand of a creature that must have been a hundred feet tall, its hand wrapped around her husband below his armpit. Behind it the lake could be seen, water visible in small circles and explosive geysers. He was clearly identified by his ID tag over his head. He was shooting it in the mouth with a pistol held tight in his fist, that chained bar thing spraying gore from the creature's hand. More hearts, more icons of amusement and merriment.
Her mouth went dry.
”The words, Madame Director,” Harvey said, trying not to laugh.
The words were again in a heavy font. ”EXCUSE ME, SIR, THE POOL IS CLOSED FOR CLEANING!”
She could only stare.
That was her husband!
Another picture, this one a short video clip of her husband stepping up to that huge creature's face as it roared and shoving his chainsword into it's nose. ”THE POOL” floated up. Her husband stepped back and shot it repeatedly in the face. ”IS RESERVED!” floated up. Her husband jumped up, landing on its head and causing it to explode in a shower of gore.
”FOR PODLINGS!” floated up.
They were laughing, in the shelters. Morale was higher than it had ever been since they'd entered the shelters.
She turned away as another short video showed up, a warborg shooting a bar of fire at her husband, who was covered in flame that he ignored as he walked forward. ”Despite the evidence, Trooper Vuxten was unable to locate the human” was the caption. Another caption appeared: ”Thank You For Not Smoking”
Her hands shook as she moved over to the table and poured herself a glass of water.
”He's all right. They're cleaning spores off of him with the flames,” Harvey said softly, moving up near her, out of his arm's reach. He brought up the menu and punched up a sandwich, making the food replicator whir.
”Food printer go brrrrr,” he mumbled, chuckling.
”Why are they laughing?” She asked. ”He's trying to protect them.”
”Because it's funny to them. He isn't their husband. They aren't laughing at your husband, they're laughing because they're scared and worried,” Harvey said. ”During combat our gestalts often throw stuff up like that to help calm us.”
”They're laughing because they're scared,” Harvey said, sliding the dish with sauce over to himself and then picking up the sandwich. ”You'll be all right. He had it under control. I didn't see any armor breaches and he's been trained for things like that.”
Brentili'ik shivered and followed Harvey's example, bringing up a tray of salted nuts to eat.
General Imak Takilikakik saw the memes coming across and stared at them for a moment. They represented a sharp increase in moral. He chewed on his lower lip a moment then walked over to the holotable where several of his men were looking over a new design for a broodcarrier sling. He pinged his datalink for a tidbit of information and nodded to himself.
”I want you to switch to a priority,” Tic-Tak said, nodding to himself. ”There are four thousand three hundred eighty-two Telkan in our beloved Corps doing various jobs. You will run off male and female Telkan in uniforms, soft stuffies and action figures. Ensure that all podlings and broodcarriers of service members are given one. I want 'Doyourpart' posters drawn up and one that says...” he paused for a moment, thinking. ”have it say: 'They fight so we can escape' and 'Telkan Will Live On!' on them.”
His men all nodded as Tic-Tak turned around, walking away.
What he'd seen on those pictures scared the ever-lilving hell out of him.
He knew, in his heart, he'd have not only spent the whole time screaming, he'd have probably fouled his armor.