Chapter 250: (Hesstla) (1/2)
Mukstet glanced at his control board as a light went from amber to red and started flashing. He turned his head as if it would matter, and called out 'behind' him to his commo officer. ”You reading that?”
”I see it. Popping beacon query,” Technician Third Class Kuplo said. The light went from amber to green on his board. ”It's 9th Recon, 33rd Mantid Rangers, coming in with eight.”
”Send one forward to be recognized,” Mukstet stated.
There was silence for a moment.
”Captain Frees Your Soul, Terran Army,” a soft whispering voice said, relayed from one of the Marine Dismount Strikers in the back to Mukstet. ”Seven to come forward.”
”Do you have any blueberry juice?” the Striker, Private Jekib, asked.
”No, we traded it for a handful of sandcastle pictures,” the Mantid answered.
The day's query word, blueberry, had been answered with the day's password, sandcastle, and Mukstet felt himself relax.
”Count them in,” Jekib said.
--recovering drones now-- 973 stated. --ninety seconds to recovery--
”Boss, their Captain is coming up to the cockpit,” Jekib warned him. ”His Team Daddy's aboard.”
”Thanks,” Mukstet opened his faceshield, his whiskers twitching at the sudden cold that flooded in. The striker, Orbit Pear in reference to Mukstet having to pull a PARE flat-spin recovery during an unpowered reentry, was silent, cold, nothing more than a chunk of dead metal to anyone passing by.
He could see the snow drifting down outside. It was only late summer, early autumn, on the planet, but there was so much dust and debris in the atmosphere that what the humans called 'nuclear winter' had set in.
It had started snowing the night before.
The black mantid, almost three feet tall, moved in silently, a mag-ac rifle in his hands and a weapon's harness on his thorax. The black chitin was covered in a light drift of snow and it took a second for Mukstet to realize that it was actually some kind of spray on white stuff to camouflage the black Mantid. He had on a black beret and looked dangerously competent to Mukstet.
”I didn't think they were letting you off of Firebase Boop,” the Mantid said.
Mukstet snorted. ”I”m not an officer, despite everyone's attempts to make me one,” he said.
The black Mantid pulled out a pack of Treana'ad cigarettes, tapping it against one bladearm. ”Want one?”
”Sure, what's it gonna do, kill me faster?” Mukstet snorted.
”Eight aboard,” Jekib said as the Mantid lit two and passed Mukstet one.
”How's it look out there?” Mukstet asked.
They were eighty miles into 'enemy' territory. The lines were starting to shake up. The fighting in orbit and in the system was still going on, obviously intense, since explosions could still be seen in the night sky, but it was planet-side that Mukstet was worried about, and his own little section just outside a major population center to be specific.
”Shitty,” the black Mantid, Frees, said, shivering slightly. ”Us mantids, we aren't fans of frozen oxidation.”
”Welp, fuck ya if ya can't take a joke,” Mukstet said, exhaling smoke at the viewscreen.
”We aren't taking off yet?” Frees asked, looking out the smartglass armaglass windshield.
”Nope. Making sure of something,” Mukstet said. He put his hand to the side of his helmet out of habit. ”Jekib, our two surprises ready?”
”On the doorguns, sir,” Jekib said.
”Surprises?” the mantid asked.
”Two humans, helmets with maxed out psychic shielding, the kind they used around Lanaktallan civilians, keeping an eye out,” Mukstet said.
”That explains the weird looking door guns,” the mantid said. ”Telkan design?”
Mukstet shook his head. ”Terran Ordnance Corps design. Up-amperaged neural rifles. The Ordnance Tech started going on about sine waves and phased auto-shifting amplitude and my eyes crossed.”
”Terrans sometimes seem to have the soul of a greenie,” Frees snorted.
--heard that-- 973 signaled back.
”Got movement,” Jekib said, his voice a whisper.
”Engage when able,” Mukstet whispered back.
The tension slowly ramped up inside the striker, a living thing that reached out with tentacles and seemed to touch everyone. Mukstet felt it, a slight tightness between the shoulder-blades, a tension in the whiskers, an urge to flatten his ears. He noticed that Frees was stroking his bladearms together slowly, as if he was sharpening them.
”CONTACT!” the human roared out. ”ENGAGING!”
The rapid fire heavy neural rifle thudded a quick five round burst, the paralyzing packets slapping out, blue in the dimness. All five hit the target. The first two exploding into sparks in mid-air, about a foot above the snow, the third and forth hitting bluish-purple energy crackling out in a halo above the object, the fifth slamming into the object and sending it tumbling.
”DISMOUNTING!” Jekib called out. Mukstet saw the Telkan Marine jump out and run through the snow toward the twitching creature.
Mukstet slapped the button, bringing the shielded reactor to life, letting the graviton engines warm up and threading power to the afterburner's fuel pumps. The striker was a stealth striker, designed to be invisible to as many detection systems as possible.
The green boys had strapped on additional physic stealth shielding for this mission.
The creature was waving its mechanical crab legs in mid-air, starting to rock side to side, trying to get up as Jekib threw down a box then kicked it into the box before slapping the lid shut. He grabbed a handle and ran for the striker.
”CONTACT! MULTIPLE CONTACTS! ENGAGING!” the Terran roared out.
Mukstet lifted off, the graviton engines humming, his instruments going live. There was a little static on his smartscreen, from the heavy metal in the snow flakes, but his brain easily compensated for it. He shifted the half-finished cigarette in his mouth to hold onto the butt with his teeth.
The Terran was running the heavy neural gun, firing it on full auto, strafing the bushes around where the striker had been sitting. The energy packets blew pockets into the snow, shattered branches, cratered the bark of trees.
It also sparkled off of shielding, revealing more crab creatures, some of them waving blurred circular saw blades, others spitting neural bolts that shattered on the striker's shields.
Jekib jumped in with his cargo and grabbed the handle.
”All onboard,” Corporal Dleket snapped.
Mukstet slammed the power, kicking in the afterburners with one foot, the sudden acceleration slamming him into his seat. Jekib felt his feet lift off the deck plating of the striker's troop compartment but held onto the ring with one power armor clad hand, the other holding onto the box. The telltales for the mounted anesthetic screen were burning a bright green.
Mukstet leveled off just above the tree line, punching the throttles to max. The screens were turned off and he used his neural jack to activate the interior psychic suppression fields as the treetops smacked against the bottom of the striker.
The striker's IFF was queried by a handful of MANPADs down in the woods, then by the emplaced positions as they shot toward the slowly stabilized front line. A BOLO tapped the IFF then went back to guarding the refugee site. A handful of tank systems queried his beacon and he lit off so it was squawking as he slowed the craft down, confident he was in the Confederate Air Defense Net.
The black mantid, Frees, turned to Mukstet and stared. ”We were bait,” he accused.
”Potential bait,” Mukstet answered, relaxing as he turned the striker toward Strike Base Boop.
”For what?” the mantid asked.
”You seen anything weird out there? Something that didn't add up?” Mukstet asked.
The mantid hummed a moment. ”Actually we did. A platoon of Terran infantry, broadcasting they were surrounded and cut off. We moved up, popped a few recon drones, and it looked like they were panicking. They were dug in hard, shooting all around them, even using their mortars and hellbores on nothing, just wreckage and empty air. They were completely panicked”
”You ever seen a Terran Confederate troop panic enmasse?” Mukstet asked. The smoke was good, he had to admit that. He didn't have the afterburner shakes, which was a plus.
The mantid hummed again. ”No. We withdrew, carried on our mission.”
”They weren't panicking,” Mukstet said. ”That's why all the Ranger patrols are being withdrawn.”
The mantid tapped his bladearms together in agitation. ”If they weren't panicking, then...”
Mukstet banked to approach the striker base from the south. It was just another layer of protection. Any craft that tried to come in would either be cleared prior, on fire, or was compromised.
”They were shooting at something only they could see,” Frees said. His antennas tapped his beret, a nervous thoughtful habit. ”You had the humans on board to spot the things.”
”And caught one,” Mukstet said. The green guidance pegs were in his vision now and he lightened his touch on the throttle. ”It's in the box. We're going to deliver it to our specialists.”