Chapter 114: (Telkan) (2/2)
Rockets and grenades were flying out at and the tanks were turning to fire at the coral.
”It looks like cabbage in the garden,” Trucker mused. ”Protective leafs. See how they're trying to curl over the coral? Yeah, this was something big.”
Bees, dragonflies, larger bugs were all swarming, going for the tanks, which had moved to areas that had been scoured of moss by explosives. A lot of the Telkan power armor had jumped onto the tanks, providing cover as they poured fire into the plants.
”Plasma didn't work, weirdly enough regular fire worked just fine,” Vuxten said. ”I don't know enough about the difference between napalm and plasma.”
”Energy profile,” Trucker grunted.
Araktun turned and looked at the holodisplay. The coral was burning.
”Look, they lost cohesiveness,” Araktun said. Trucker nodded. ”Each of those coral formations they lost, they lose more and more of their cohesion.”
”This might be the difference in this sector compared to the rest,” Tic-Tak mused. ”Perhaps they are growing more of them?”
Vuxten shook his head. ”Not for a pipe that big. That's something big being grown. Something it'll take atomics to stop.”
”Something to offset our big tanks,” Araktun said. He turned to Vuxten. ”What's the biggest threat your power armor troops face?”
Vuxten looked confused. ”I'm just a corporal, sir.”
”Second lieutenant now, son,” Tik-tac said.
Vuxten nodded. ”I'm just a lieutenant, sir. I'm in charge of a fire recon platoon of Telkan Marines, that's all.”
”What's the biggest threat you've faced?” General Vost asked.
”Heat. There has to be thirty different ways the jungle goes for your heat systems. From what looks like airborne plant seeds that seal to your cooling fins with insulation like plastic to bugs that purposefully home in on your cooling systems, the jungle is definitely targeting heat,” Vuxten said.
”I noticed that during our relief of the civilian command center,” Trucker said.
Araktun nodded. ”My men might be of use here,” he turned to Vuxten. ”I'd like a briefing of First Telkan's heat compensation tactics.”
Vuxten looked at the gathered generals. ”Sirs, maybe it would be better to talk to some of the higher ranking officers? I've only been a Marine a year.”
Tik-Tac walked up and put his hand on Vuxten's shoulder. ”Your men have the most field experience out there in the jungle. The majority of your officers are Terran Marines, we'll get their opinion too, son. Don't think we're not going to speak to them too. You just have a lot of field experience.”
”Oh, OK, sir,” Vuxten said, looking out of his depth.
”Don't sweat it, kid,” Trucker said. ”We'll have you back in armor and behind your rifle quick enough so you don't have to stand around a bunch of plotters and planners like us.”
Vuxten just nodded.
Ekret had watched the whole thing interestedly. He knew how Vuxten felt. He had been a Most High, and he still felt inadequate at times watching the Terran military work. He, himself, was used to being told what to do, not having people ask him his opinions on everything from how much time his men spent in the tanks to if the ammunition templates were working right to what his favorite shows were.
Ekret moved over next to Vuxten as the other Generals went back to discussing everything from how to deal with the Terran military's biggest problem (heat) to what the jungle might be cooking up to how much longer they had to hold out until the shelters were reconfigured and ready to launch.
”It's almost frightening, isn't it?” Ekret asked the younger male.
”Sir?” Vuxten asked, looking at him. Ekret could see the thick red scarring, not yet faded, around the Telkan's ear.
”Watching Terrans go to work. You can see how they've crushed everyone they've ever faced,” Ekret said, taking the half of the ration tube that remained unchewed.
”I don't understand why they wanted to talk to me,” the younger male said softly.
”Because you've been on the ground, seen it react to your actions with your own eyes, had your reflexes save you, which means you understand something about the jungle at a subconscious level,” Ekret said, pouring the spit out of the tube into the reclaimer before putting it back into his mouth and chewing on it.
”Vuxten, what's the first sign you notice of a vein bolt?” General Vost asked.
”The mat bulges slightly, gets spongier feeling under our boots, and there will be a green trail in the moss where the nutrients are being poured into the vein to get it ready,” Vuxten answered. ”More spores and pollen too.”
”See, that's information you can't see in the recordings,” Ekret said, nodding at the holotank. He looked at Vuxten. ”I can have my mechanics put feedback sensors on my hovertanks to rate the ground reflection of my hoverfans, maybe give me a second or two to react.”
”Oh,” Vuxten nodded.
”Trucker there, he'll notice it. The Unnamed Gods only know how he'd notice, but I guarantee you that he'll notice it,” Ekret said. ”General Araktun's cyborgs will know to keep a look out for it. A second or two can save countless lives.”
”You can ambush the ambush if you know it's coming,” Vuxten quoted.
”These power blooms, how long from sighting an incoming vein bloom till they erupt?” General Vost asked.
”Um, ten, maybe twenty seconds. You can tell what's going to get power bloomed by a thin vein pattern coming from the middle of an intersection. It takes three or four vein bolt strikes to cause a power bloom,” Vuxten said. ”You can't rely on your suit computer, though. Because of the sudden spore and pollen eruptions your visuals and sensors are usually confused.”
Vuxten thought for a second. ”If you have incoming vein bolt strikes and your sensors suddenly drop to almost nothing, you're about to get power bloomed and you might be on top of a bloomer.”
All of the generals nodded, adding that.
Vuxten noted that Tik-Tac was stepped back a bit, just watching. He pointed it out to Ekret who nodded.
”The General isn't a combat arms leader. He trusts the others to do their jobs, he's figuring out the best was to support them,” Ekret said. He looked at Vuxten. ”Make no mistake, young Telkan, wars are won or lost by men like the General. All of the combat valor in the world won't help you if you starve to death without ammunition or uniforms.”
”Oh,” Vuxten said. He never really thought about it. Maintenance, supplies, armor repair, it just happened. Vuxten had never really thought about it beyond hoping it was taken care of.
Ekret kept chewing on the ration tube, watching the information in the tanks flow by.
”Why aren't you involved?” Vuxten suddenly asked.
Ekret looked at him and smiled. ”Because, young man, I, like you, are Scout Recon. Which means that I'll be paying attention to you and your fellow Scout Marines on a much more personal level. The others? They're heavy metal. Combat warborgs, heavy tanks, heavy assault infantry.”
”Oh,” Vuxten said, still slightly confused.
”Just stand here, they'll get to us. More than likely to assign a mission,” Ekret said. ”And I've got a feeling what it's going to be,” Ekret said.
”What's that, sir?” Vuxten asked.
”If I tell you, you won't figure it out on your own,” Ekret smiled.
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Ekret stared at the massive organic pipes, rising up out of the ocean, over the edge of the cliff, to disappear into the wilted looking jungle. His tank sat, idling, only a hundred meters from the nearest pipe, which had grown a thicker layer of twisted vines around it. The moon had set with the sun, meaning the only view was through light amplification, giving the world a too-slick feeling.
He left signal repeaters every two hundred meters that used point to point tight beam communication across one of the narrow bands not clogged by the pollen and spores, all the way back to the main Forward Operating Base.
Trucker was only fifty miles away, his entire Division formed into a spearhead poised to slam its way through the thickest part of the jungle. All eight BOLOs attached to him were on the flanks, ready to go.
Vuxten's platoon and a light company of Araktun's cyborgs had entered the jungle only two hours before, after making sure everyone had gotten a good night's sleep.
The objective wasn't to suddenly win the war, but to delay whatever it was the jungle had planned.
The shelters needed another twelve days to finish reconfiguring, dig their way out of the bedrock, and launch.
One point two million shelters across a main continent, two sub-continents, and eighteen major islands.
Ekret was glad it wasn't his responsibility. That all of those people only tangentially relied on his guns.
If I was to be put into Tik-Tac's place I'd develop a substance abuse problem retroactively, Ekret thought to himself.
He looked back over the ocean, one hand on the lip of the hatch, feeling his tank vibrate slightly. The ocean was covered with a thick layer of algae and seaweed.
Enemy territory, he sighed to himself.
He looked around at the jungle again, keeping an eye for any change in the colors. Yeah, his scout tank would supposedly alert him of any palette change in the foliage, but sometimes it was better to keep a physical eye on it. He could barely see the fiber-optic cable twinkling in the sunlight, moss already growing over it, that ran from his tank into the jungle.
Recon Alpha-Three-Three's only line of communication out of the jungle.
The surgical sterilization fields crackled as General Ekret waited.
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Trucker had his left palm turned up, his right hand on the coax gun. Above his left hand was a holodisplay feeding him data. It was easy to forget just how thick the jungle was from the ground, when you weren't in a five hundred ton mechanical war machine. The 'trees' were almost a hundred meters high, the trunks thick and greasy looking. The moss carpet was thick and spores the size of a grown man's fist floated in mid air, slowly blinking red or yellow or green.
Two hours and they were nearly twenty-five miles in. Trucker knew the borgs from Sixteen Scout Recon could move up to ninety miles an hour, but they'd chosen to follow the Telkan Marines, who were notably slower.
Right now they were stopped, waiting for something that Trucker didn't see. He could tell by the signals that the Recon cyborgs didn't either.
But Vuxten had said to hold position, that nobody should move, and so everyone was frozen in place.
As Trucker watched there was a brightening in the moss in a vein pattern, spreading out from the massive nutrient pipes.
”Do. Not. Move,” the Telkan officer snapped.
The pattern spread out, then the moss bulged around a handful of thick conduits, the edges around it brightening.
Almost a minute passed before the fluid moved off to the left.
That's heading for someone else, Trucker thought to himself. He opened his channel to BOLO Victorious.
”Victor, keep your optics peeled, there's a vein bolt heading in roughly your direction,” Trucker snapped.
”Roger, sir,” BOLO Victorious answered.
The scout team moved on.
Trucker kept watch, feeling the numbers run in his head. He slid the map to the north, not to the thickest part of the jungle, but to a point between five different lakes.
There. Whatever it is, it's there, Trucker thought to himself, scanning back to where the scouts were following the thick nutrient trunk.
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TERRASOL
Space Force Units arriving at operational theaters. Rough estimation of location on Precursor Biological Weapon Fleets for systems are attached. Each fleet is to the solar north-west, at approximately 2.2 LY from stellar mass. Bioweapon fleets are to be targeted with extreme prejudice.
Operation Tusked Raven is proceeding according to projections.
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TASK FORCE 43 (ANVIL)
Have moved in strength into the Nantaver-837 system (Locally: Artcarik-482) to engage heavy Unified Military Fleet presence. Was informed by the System Most High, one Mana'aktoo, that even if we were triumphant in two years time the entire system would be eradicated by a super-weapon. System Most High 'inadvertantly' let slip the distance. Discovered bioweapon fleet in hibernation. Upon informing System Most High and System Defense Most High of the destruction of the bioweapon fleet, the system was immediately surrendered.
Governor Mana'aktoo is highly regarded by the xenospecies who live in the system. The four mega-corporations also regard him highly. The System Defense Most High is highly regarded by his subordinates.
I'm in an odd place here. Governor Mana'aktoo has made himself and his staff available at all opportunity. I'm pinned down here since this system is a priority to the Unified Council defense. If I abandoned it to carry on, another fleet could come in and take it. As it surrendered immediately I cannot move through destroying infrastructure due to the Geneva Convention and the Rules of Land Warfare.
Which means the System Defense High Most has pinned my task force here even more effectively than if he'd tried to take me head on. He had literally millions of troops under his command, all of whom are EPOWs that I have to oversee. They are not a difficultly, at worst they're lazy and unmotivated as EPOWs, at best their eager to assist my command in any orders we give out, but I cannot pull out and leave behind millions of soldiers.
Additionally, the civilian infrastructure is the highest I've seen in a Lanaktallan controlled system, the citizens highly educated (for their standards) and eagerly supporting Mana'aktoo's stewardship.
As the xenosapients in the system welcome us, with Mana'aktoo's encouragement, my office is flooded with requests for PR interviews and 'meet the people' interviews. It's not uncommon for my Marines and Army personnel to be asked to pose for photography or asked for interviews.
I need an actual occupation fleet here. MI was way off on whether or not this guy would fight to the death. My Task Force should have moved on to my other objectives already, instead I'm stuck here like my foot has been nailed to the floor.
--Admiral Schmidt, Commander, Task Force Anvil.
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MANTID FREE WORLD
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TELKAN GESTALT
What? What's so funny?
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MANTID FREE WORLDS
It's the age old human problem, dear. They won, but now they don't know what to do with it.
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TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS
See, sis and I, we'd just eat everyone and leave, at least, before the Terrans stomped on us.
The Terrans, though, they want something different for all those people.
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TELKAN GESTALT
What do they want?
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RIGELLIAN COMPACT
Freedom and self-determination.
They don't want to stand over you with a club, they want you to start doing your own thing so they can get back to doing their own thing.
Humans are lazy.
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TERRASOL
Wow. Rude.
I mean, you're not wrong.
But rude.
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