Chapter 196: (Nakteti) (1/2)
It was a beautiful day, the sun shining in a blue sky decorated with a few fluffy clouds, the breeze warm and gentle. The city was hushed with only security drones in the air. There were small hover vehicles moving around the streets, usually with two to four people of various species in them. Now and then a hoverbus would rumble by full of people looking out the windows at the landmarks being pointed out by the tour guide inside. Treana'ad and Mantids took pictures, Rigellians filmed important areas, and various Terrans all chattered to one another.
The small cart was a ground effect wheeled vehicle, small with four wheels, set of comfortable seats, privacy-screens blurring the occupants from the outside but allowing crystal clear view of the surroundings for the people within. It had a mini-bar and snack area, climate control inside the privacy screens, and was a nice smooth ride.
What did draw looks was the fact there were two full warborgs in front of and in back of the cart as well as two on each sides. Many beings took pictures, positive there was a Mantid diplomat inside as they were often accompanied by warborgs.
What was inside was a Terran Space Force Captain and a slightly intoxicated matron, who was looking at everything with fascination.
”So the Mantid really did try to invade? Right here?” she asked, looking around.
”Yes,” the human Captain said. ”Almost two years of fighting.”
”I thought they Glassed everything,” the matron mused. ”So, they struck at the world capitals with military forces and Glassed the rest of the planet?”
The human Captain nodded. ”Yes, ma'am. It's pretty involved why they weren't able to Glass nearly a dozen capitals immediately.”
The matron patted the human's thigh with her left hand gripping hand while she sipped her drink held in her right catching hand and held a human pipe in her left catching hand. ”Tell me.”
The human Captain leaned back slightly. ”We have a concept of restricted airspace. Our countries back then were particularly on edge. We were about to have the Second Colony War. The majority of the human warship and military had actually been deployed to the Colonies to force them to submit, so weren't in the Sol System.”
Matron Sangbre nodded.
”They caught mostly half finished construction and warships under repair from the Cygnus Incident that would have been the catalyst for the Second Colony War,” the Captain said. ”What the Mantids didn't really know, despite gathering intelligence, was that most of our combat fleets were already on the move.”
”How did they miss that?” Sangbre asked, sipping at her drink.
”Operational security. We were moving on the Colonies, about twenty of them, and didn't want the colonies to know. Most of the berths either had construction or repair going on in them,” the Captain said. He looked out. ”The Mantids used a 'Kill the Queen' philosophy as well as 'Behold and Despair' theory in showing the attacks to the rest of the species.”
”Like the Precursors were doing across GalNet?” Sangbre asked. She burped lightly, waved an excuse, sipped at her drink and continued. ”That's why you Terrans think that we were fighting the Mantid Precursor machines.”
The Captain nodded. ”The Autonomous War Machines, which is what we called them officially, everyone else called the berserkers, that we had fought five previous times did not do that kind of psychological warfare. Those ones struck, struck hard, took some prisoners for research, then denuded the planet of any intelligent life.”
The Captain leaned back and stretched. ”We discovered during the Third AWM War that ones from the Second AWM War had reseeded the planets with genetically altered versions of the local intelligent life.”
”Really?” Sangbre said. She looked out at the grass waving in the breeze and the cherry blossoms falling from the trees. ”That sounds like the Lanaktallan Overseers.”
The Captain nodded. ”We have more evidence than that,” he laughed. ”In a court of law you could prove conclusively that the Lanaktallan built the Type-One AMWs.”
The car slowed and stopped.
”So they didn't hit this place with orbital plasma weapons?” Sangbre asked as she turned in her seat and slid off the seat, into the afternoon warmth. She reluctantly left her drink behind and looked around.
White buildings, many with columns. There were ancient fortifications scattered around. She could see old wire that looked barbed and spiked on top of heavy cloth bags. There were burnt out vehicles still scattered around, rubble shoved and stacked to make everything into a maze.
”The orbitals over Earth capitals is restricted air space, heavily defended,” he pointed off into the distance. ”The four Mantid battlecruisers that were supposed to glass this city fell over there. Around the city of Mosky of the Stronk Fourty there's about a half dozen battle-wagons that crashed, but the Vodka Trogs of the time were absolute maniacs.”
Following the signs that read ”Rally Point Echo” and ”Assault Sally Point Tango” and ”Mech Point Lima” Sangbre shook her head. Despite the warmth the day the shadows held an odd chill. A couple of times it sounded like she was stepping in liquid but when she looked down the shattered gravel was dry.
”Was the fighting fierce?” she asked. She thought about her own people, who had given up without a single shot when the Lanaktallan had showed up.
”Six hundred thousand humans died here, killed in battle. Two million were injured. A hundred thousand went missing,” the human Captain said. ”On the other side, the Mantids lost eight million warrior caste here and nineteen million worker caste, and eventually lost a Queen.”
Sangbre shook her head. ”That's... insane.”
The human Captain shrugged. ”The Vodka Trogs lost and killed almost as many, but the real maniacs were the Kawaii Samuria of Animeland. Every living human on the Island of Anime poured into their city. Hell, the Lolita Sorceresses of the Sailor Moon Sisterhood summoned a thing called Gojira at one point. The Mantid never took it,” the Captain shook his head. ”It was a year after the war had ended before the fighting in Lossglass Tokyo ended. Nobody ever figured out the casualties but they estimate it as nearly eighteen million humans and a hundred million Mantids.
”The place is like this now, cursed and silent.”
Sangbre stopped and stared at a fighting position in the rubble. The side had been excavated away to show the buried room inside. There were small humans, she was able to identify them as adolescents. Male and female, with bandages on them, cleaning weapons, manning a heavy gun, laying on cots and sleeping.
”Those are your young!” she said, turning and facing the larger Terran. ”Your younglings are not supposed to fight!”
The human nodded slowly. ”Easy to say that, isn't it, Matron Sangbre? Standing here, right now. Easy words, aren't they?”
Sangbre felt a cold chill wind down her spine, like icy fingers down her back, and she slowly turned and looked at them again.
They had soot and dirt on their faces, their clothing was worn and torn, their eyes and faces looked much older. There was a small immature male covering the pale blood face of an immature female with a blanket. There were littles stacking ammunition magazines and bandages. There was a little stirring a pot made from an ammunition can.
She looked to the side and saw the plaque.
”The Irregulars of 11th Street 'Habkidz' fought from the interior of their destroyed hab-complex for fifteen months before being overrun by Mantids. The last death occurred when the last remaining Habkidz, identified as 9 year old Emma Tolgensun via DNA and video, detonated a fusion grenade when the Mantid warriors backed her against a wall.
”This fighting position, which held for eight months, was recreated off of images and video taken by the children who manned it.”
She pressed the button and watched as the view came to life. The children moving around, their faces too old for their bodies, their eyes boring into Sangbre every time they passed over her. She was surprised to see children without even any secondary sex characteristics smoking cigarettes or drinking bottles that her implant told her were full of home-made alcohol. Each one she looked at, she got a quick breakdown of their birth date, their lives, their death, and how the children had recorded it.
”KYLD BY MANTIZ” was the universal cause of death. The one that made her gasp was ”<>
Not one of the children lived past fourteen years old. The youngest that said ”KILD BY MANTIZ” was seven years old.
She looked at the Captain, feeling her ears heat up with embarrassment. She looked back at the eVR mockup, which had gone still again.
”The hab complex contained twelve thousand people when it was bombed. There was just under a thousand children killed here,” the Captain said. He shook his head. ”The Mantids didn't accept surrender.”
”Oh,” Sangbre said, feeling slightly embarrassed.
”It's OK, you didn't know. You don't get it,” the Captain said. ”You have no cultural comparison for this, do you?”
Sangbre shook her head. ”No. We surrendered almost immediately.”
”We don't do that,” the Captain said. He checked her vitals, she was stressed, anxious, and a little upset, but within the high end of tolerance. ”Do you need embraced?”
Sangbre shook her head. ”No. I should feel this. I need to feel this to understand.”
The Captain nodded and followed Sangbre as she kept moving through the twisted paths between the rubble. He looked around, feeling sorrow for a moment. Sangbre stopped in front of another fighting position, this one manned by male and female humans of all ages. She touched the dataplaque, watching it come to life.
She reached out to touch another button when the Captain touched her shoulder. When she looked up he shook his head.
”Don't. That button shows you the last recorded images of this fighting position,” he said softly. ”This one is particularly bad.”
Sangbre stared at him, reaching out one finger, and pressed it before turning to look when her datalink pinged.
The image shifted, the eVR shifting. She found herself inside the fighting position, standing against the back wall, almost transparent. The missing wall was back, a pile of what she had learned were sandbags, reinforced with broken pieces of concrete. There were three heavy guns that were roaring.
”THEY WANT US BAD!” one of the men called out. The gun he was on was beeping steadily, her implant telling her that a cracked barrel on the four-barrel rotary machinegun was overheating.
”TWO MINUTES TO EVACUATION IS COMPLETE!” a woman yelled, looking up from a computer that had network cable running from the floor to the computer. ”KIDS ARE OUT! WOUNDED ARE OUT!”