Chapter 218: (Foxtrot Niner Two) (1/2)

The wooded ground whipped by underneath the belly of the striker, which did little more than make a low humming noise as it traveled Nap of Earth along a winding path. Behind it flew three others, making a diamond formation, all of them with their weapons in storage mode to maximize stealth and minimize their profile.

Mukstet, piloting Foxtrot-Nine-Two of First Squadron, First Wing, not only paid attention to his sensor systems, which still kept jumping around and snarling due to the planetary level of jamming, but also looked out of the armaglass windows to keep visual confirmation.

”Got smoke at two-o-clock, anyone else copy?” he said. The other three pilots signalled that they did and Mukstet banked his striker hovercraft, opening a channel to his flight crew. ”Anything on commo or with EW?”

”Jamming is still heavy. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if the quantum links are jammed too. It's pretty bad and getting worse,” Kanput said, his voice slightly offended. ”I'm trying to isolate and filter it but it's really weird and changes up.”

”Electronic Warfare board is lit right up. We're not being attacked but we've got some serious hash in the systems,” Tegket said. ”Feels weird not to have the Chiefs here,” he said, referring to the two Terran Chief Warrant Officers who had been with them as soon as they had been assigned Nine-Two.

”They'll be back. They're SUDS'd up,” Mukstet said.

”Brr, I don't see how they can do that. Get killed over and over. I'd start screaming about the second time they brought me back,” Kanput said. ”Chief Tardra'ak told me he was once killed nine times on a single drop during the Mar-gite Invasion.”

”Screw. That. Noise,” Tegket said. ”I wanna go quick. Just whap! and there's the Digital Omnimessiah or Chrome Saint Peter asking me if I had a good time.”

That got laughter from the three crewmen.

Mukstet dropped the speed as they approached the smoke, firing a recon drone which streaked out in front of them, vanishing form the instruments and sight in less than a single breath.

”Got the drone. Looks good. Coming up on the target,” Tegket said softly. ”Wait, wait, crap. It's a drop cradle, one of the big ones. Looks like it took heavy fire on entry and crashed.”

”We'll set down and see if anyone made it,” Mukstet said. He opened a link to the back. ”Corporal Paklak?”

”Here, sir,” the young Telkan NCO said. He was replacing Sergeant Kuplo, who Mukstet had put in charge of security and construction of the striker base.

”Get your men ready to dismount. We're coming up on a damaged drop cradle. I want it checked out. If we can pull anything usable, do so, otherwise follow Corps doctrine and blow it all in place,” Mukstet said, still slowing down.

”Aye aye, sir,” Corporal Paklak said. He turned to the four dismount light scout Marines he had with it. ”All right, Recon. We've got a downed drop cradle. We're going to check it for any friendlies or any salvage. Weapons warm. Looks like just a crash but we all know Precursors can be sneaky.”

Mukstet cut Paklak out of the commo circuit, smiling to himself with the fact that Corporal had either forgotten to log out of the channel or he wanted Mukstet to hear him giving orders.

The cradle came into view and Mukstet gave a low whistle at the sight.

It was massive, big enough Mukstet could have fit an entire squadron of strikers inside of it. Thick battlesteel armor that was still smoking and pitted. The graviton pods were all sparking and blowing thick black smoke. He could see flames here and there in the landing systems.

”All Wing elements, we'll stay grounded in case there's a sneaky Precursor around using NoE scanning to watch this area,” Mukstet said.

”That's a big drop cradle,” Skuntak said over the link. ”What do you think is in it?”

”Tanks,” Huxmet said.

”With our luck? Waste waiting for reclaimation,” Puknaket laughed.

”I'll take either. Waste we can feed into the nano-forges the little brothers have dismounted. Tanks have the big creation engines onboard to make those big honking tank rounds,” Mukstet said.

”Terran tankers or Telkan tankers?” Puknaket wondered.

”Let's hope it's Terran heavy tanks,” Skuntak said.

”Except we'd have to get them back,” Mukstet said.

”Perimeter secure. Transponder beacon's shot. It's from the Warkwaw Skwerk, I don't know which ship that is,” Paklak said.

Mukstet checked his database.

”It's a troop transport, Rigellian named, armor only,” Mukstet said. ”Let's hope the crew-cradles were in that thing?”

Paklak opened a viewport. ”If they were, they ain't now.”

The view showed the entire side was gone, the interior scooped out at least halfway through. The drop cradle was in separate sections inside. The cradle had hit hard, buckling the frame and had half its forty-foot high mass buried in the dirt.

”Well, we know where the transponder went,” Mukstet sighed. ”All right, get inside, see what the payload is.”

”Aye aye, sir,” Paklak said. ”All right, men, let's crack this oyster open.”

”Got a channel. No audio, just visual. Looks like a local news reporter,” Kanput said. ”Wanna peek?”

”Sure,” Mukstet said, putting it on the center window.

The local Hesstlin news reporter was ducked down behind a car. Her face was covered with dirt and soot with shiny tear tracks below her eyes. Her fur looked singed and her ears were flat against her skull even as her whiskers trembled. Her wide eyes looked somehow wider than normal even though Mukstet had never seen a Hesstlin before. She was talking rapidly, pointing beyond her.

**ANALYZING LIP MOVEMENTS** popped up across the screen.

”Sorry,” Kanput said. The words cleared.

The camera popped up, showing the street beyond.

Heavy Terran tanks were moving by, their air defense systems live, coherent light spitting out of the rapid fire lasers. Telkan Marines were on the back decks, crouched down behind the turret. Kanput could see the markings on the side of the tank.

Second Armor Division.

The camera focused back on the female, who was still silently talking quickly. In the middle of the sentence the lip reading program kicked in.

**forces from the Terran Confederacy are forcing back the attackers as I speak. Terran military authorities encourage everyone to take shelter immediately as a second wave of attackers has just arrived in system. If you cannot reach a shelter, enter a basement or subway. Barring that, stack matresses on any large table and hide beneath it with bottled water and packaged food.**

”Go ahead and log it. I've seen enough,” Mukstet said, shaking his head.

Space Force had mainly been doing a troop transport to take Second Telkan and III Corps to the planet for integration exercises. As far as Mukstet could remember from mess hall talk, the whole ”Navy” aspect of the fleet aside from the transports had been about a dozen destroyers, a handful of frigates, and a scattering of cruisers.

He could remember the Boop had been surrounded by at least a dozen Precursor ships, all firing into the troop-ship from a range that could be measured in meters.

”Mukstet, do you read?” came Paklak's voice.

”I read you,” Mukstet answered.

”Not sure what this thing is. Got some big vehicles, but I've never seen anything like them. We're at the back of it. There's a stasis locker reading green across the board. Got some armored pods too. Rest of the pods are missing. Looks like this cradle took a shot in the belly that blew out of the roof. The center is completely gone,” the Corporal said. ”Orders?”

”Pop the stasis locker. Should be full of greenies, they'll know what's going on,” Mukstet said. ”973, take a couple men and go assist.”

--roger roger--

”All right. Tell the little brothers to be careful, the interior's still hot. Think it might have been a ground based anti-ship particle beam that cored this thing out,” Paklak said before closing the comlink.

Proper radio procedure goes out first, Mukstet sighed to himself. He wanted to be by the book, but instead of coming in on high speed runs to provide close air support he was watching some insects sit on his forward screens.

--27rst SB(M)-- 973 signalled. --3.54 is here oh boy oh boy--

Mukstet frowned. Having a decimal in a name was unusual for a greenie. He brought up the handbook and ran a search for decimals and twitched his ears in surprise. Decimals in names were reserved for officers with multiple specialties and were rare.

”Any Terrans make it?” Mukstet asked.

”Negative. Looks like they were in an armored section in the middle and took a near-perfect hit. Got six armored pods we're cracking now. Might be humans,” Paklak said.

--3.45 here sir Screams at Ta'Xet is waking up-- another mantid signalled. --moving to decant--

Mukstet checked his database. 27st Sustainment Battalion (Main) was part of First Cavalry Division. Overstrength, dedicated to handle the needs of 4th Armor Brigade and 19th Special Troops Battalion. Tanks, fast attack strikers, artillery, counterbattery, air defense, even military police.

There should have been almost 600 Terrans and an entire company of Mantid specialists.

Mukstet checked his drone, which was still moving in slow circles around the wreckage. Nothing, just trees.

I'm gonna miss the whole war, sitting out here in the forest, he thought to himself.

”Sir, the mantid Special Skills Company survived in the stasis locker, but it looks like only the Rapid Ready Team's pods made it. Eight Terrans, pods say two are badly injured, the rest are banged up,” Paklak said. ”Got a russet mantid in here, says she's Screams at Ta'Xet and the lead surgeon.”

”Patch her in,” Mukstet ordered.

”Greetings and salutations. I am Major Screams at Ta'Xet, XO of Charlie Company's Surgical Team,” the calm and steady voice came through. ”I wish to have your men load the pods into the surgical vehicle before opening it.”

”It's thirty miles to the striker base,” Mukstet said.

”That will take just over two hours to reach at operational speeds, a little under an hour at transport speeds. Do you wish us to decant the Terrans at this time or wait until we arrive at base?” Screams asked.

”We're exposed out here. I'd rather get back to the striker base as soon as possible,” Mukstet said. ”Minimal EM sig, we don't know the enemy's capabilities.”

”Very well. I will have the Special Skills soldiers get the vehicles ready for movement. Screams, out,” the mantid said.

Mukstet breathed a little easier after hearing the officer's calm tones.

Kanput broke in. ”I've got a signal. It's hashed, but it's definitely a First Cav transponder. They're under heavy attack and need close air support. Fifty-eight miles out, north by northwest, that's the best I can do by the signal strength and direction. I triangulated it off the Wing's strikers.”

Mukstet sat up, bringing the systems off of standby. ”Dismount Team Alpha and Dismount Team Charlie, mount up. Foxtrot-Niner-Seventeen and Five, stay here and provide support. Lead them back. Ten, you're on my port side, we've got friendlies in need of CAS.”