Chapter 260: (Hesstla) (1/2)
Mukstet stared for a second at the heavily armored Terran females, noticing they all had red stripes on their fuzzy faces, whiskers, large round eyes, feline ears, and looked far too young to be clad in such heavy armor. They all held aloft their roaring clattering chainswords and screamed in one howling bloodlust filled voice.
”WAAAAAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHH!” roared out.
Mukstet turned his attention back to the attackers, knowing that the Precursors wouldn't care about what was going on inside the walls until they reached inside the walls, if even then. The Clankers were still out of range of his stub SMG so he knelt down behind the barrier, keeping just his eyes and the top of his helmet above the battle-steel laminated ceramacrete.
”DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!” sounded out, from a thousand voices, and the platform shook as the firing stand took the weight of the Neko-Marines jumping up onto the wall.
Mukstet expected them to rush the enemy with their chainswords and their brutal looking stubby weaponry, instead they were grouped up into teams of five, two holding heavy guns with another feeding the ugly looking weapon ammunition, the fifth one standing up, torches on her shoulders burning with pink and white fire, aiming her chainsword and calling out nonsense syllables that seemed to make sense to the other ones.
”ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ HOOROODOO! ” ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ the ones with the chainswords called out, somehow screaming the emojis, even as the clankers rushed forward. Mukstet noticed that his two Terran door gunners had stopped firing, joining a team of only three of the strange looking Terrans.
”ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ HOOROODOOOOO! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ” the chainsword wielding ones howled out.
The clankers, sensing the lull in the firepower, gave out their own warcry.
YOU BELONG TO US!
”ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ HOOOROOODOOOOOOO! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ” they yowled.
YOU BELONG TO...
” ＼(＾▽＾)／ BOOKEEE MRRRYO, SHIMAAAAEEEEEEEE! ＼(￣▽￣)／ ” the chainswords came down.
” (*¯︶¯*) DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!” was screamed out as the guns opened up.
The clankers didn't finish their warcry.
Most of the Hesstla screamed in sudden terror as the massive 30mm guns the Dokigrrlz held opened up, the eight barrel rotating minigun ripping out 92 rounds a second of mass reactive high explosive armor piercing incendiary shells.
It took a second for Mukstet to realize they were only firing one second bursts, letting off the trigger for a full second or two before firing a full second again. The Neko-Marines fired in teams, the right side firing, then the left side.
Mukstet knew he was staring, his mouth hanging open, just staring past the wall as the enemy's forward charge just dissolved. Where before there were a dozen, a score, a hundred to take the place of every one of them that were killed, the interlocked steady firepower of the Dokigrrlz not only stopped the advance dead but started pushing it back from the wall.
The leader of each five man team jumped down with what sounded to Mukstet like ”JOOOOOOAAAAN!” waving her chainsword. The left two jumped down while the right side kept firing, opening fire as the left side jumped down.
Mukstet watched as the Dokigrrlz would fire, let off the trigger, take two steps, then fire again, moving up first left then right, the one with the chainsword and the heavy looking SMG always two steps ahead.
--brrrrt!-- 973 sent over the link, happy icons coming next. --brrrrrt brrrrt brrrrrt--
Mukstet just stared as a second wave of them landed on the parapet. These ones packed bulky, unfinished looking missile weapons and weapons that had belts of what Mukstet recognized as 40mm variable loadout grenades. All of them smeared with pink and white paint, smiley faces, emojis, and triangles.
There was a fzzzt that made his teeth tingle and the ones with the missile launchers gave a shout, firing missiles at the Clankers in the air, the larger armored ones that were still approaching.
Mukstet let his SMG fall to his side, suddenly feeling completely useless as the ones carrying the grenade launchers and the missile launchers jumped down, hustling up behind their advancing sisters and a third wave jumped up on the wall, all of them carrying heavy flame throwers, pink and white fire dripping from the ends of the nozzles.
”DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!” they shrieked as one.
Mukstet saw, in places, where pink and white lightning arced off the ones firing or feeding the guns, to envelope the leader, who would throw back her head and howl in rage. The banners affixed to the back of their armor snapped in the wind, the pink and white ribbons on their armor streamed behind them, and none of the clankers return fire seemed to have any effect.
--technomancer technomancer technomancer-- 973 squealed over the datalink, flashing icons of glee.
Mukstet turned around and saw a robed and wizened old man leaning on a staff of twisted black wood and warsteel, pink and white crystals embedded in the staff, pink and white skulls orbiting him, some the size of Mukstet's hand others looking for all the world like Telkan skulls.
”Hey!” Mukstet yelled, leaping off the parapet and onto the ground, running toward his striker. The skulls were swarming his vehicle, their jaws opening up to breathe black mist onto his damaged and battered striker.
He had almost reached the bent and wizened figure when they lifted their staff in both hands and called out a single word of Engrish-Emoji.
”♥╣[-_-]╠♥” he shouted.
Mukstet skidded to a stop as the lightning, this time red, black, purple, pink, and white, roared from the end of his staff, covering his striker. The temperature seemed to drop to almost freezing as a wind pulled him toward his striker. His teeth ached and lightning strewn black clouds swirled around his hidden striker. He could hear popping sounds, a weird crackling noise, and feel goosebumps rise up on his skin.
”I will heal the machine's war-spirit's pain!” the ancient Terran said, his voice strong and steady.
The smoke, lightning, wind, and mist ebbed away and Mukstet knew he was gawking.
His striker looked heavier, the guns had more than the previous barrels, the weapon pod wings were thicker, longer, and packed three pod mounts instead of two.
--zingy zingy-- 973 said. --vehicle all fixed fixy fixy doki-spritzy--
”Take the pain they intend upon inflicting and return it to the enemy, my son,” the figure said, heat rippling off of him as the skulls swooped back down to orbit him, smoke pouring from them, fire wreathing them, and black mist oozing from their jaws.
Mukstet hurried over to his striker, climbing in. It felt strange, heavier, older, almost like it was trembling in urgency.
”Foxtrot-Niner-Two, mount the vehicle,” Mukstet said, sitting down in the pilot's seat, feeling it cradle him. He locked in the buckles, locked down the five point harness, and leaned back, feeling the neural jack slam into his head rather than the squirming gentleness he was used to.
He gasped, feeling as if he had sustained a hard blow to the base of the skull. Everything went white for a second and it felt like his heart stuttered for a second.
The striker came alive to his senses. The main fusion plant thrummed like his heart, the intakes moved with his lungs, electrical impulses moved like blood through his veins. It took him a moment to realize he needed to open his eyes, lost for a second in the striker itself.
The pilot's seat next to him was gone, replaced by a massive heavy gun that looked more like something a tank should carry than the striker. The smartglass was covered by a retractable armored shield, and he knew he was sitting in a warsteel laminate tub.
One by one his crew got on board, the mantids all chittering with glee as they took their stations in the maintenance spaces.
”Combat control, this is Foxtrot-Niner-Two, back in the fight, providing close air support to,” he went to look for what the air strip was called when it floated up in his brain. ”Air combat support base Alpha Two Two.”
”Welcome back to the fight,” a calm voice that Mukstet recognized as one of the Terran Communication Specialists. ”Logging you as active close air support for ACS-Alpha-Two-Two. Give 'em hell and fury.”
Mukstet felt the hair down his spine try to raise. Rage he could understand, desperate fury he could understand, but the Terrans had started talking like they were all sitting around in a park discussing a particularly interesting documentary.
”DOKI DOKI DOKI DOKI!” came over his headset. His retinal display translated: ”Marking with pink and red smoke, close air support needed, heavy tanks approaching” which made him shake his head.
”Kick it!” Private Mulpret whooped as Mukstet slammed the striker up and out, banking hard. He could see the battlefield around him, see how the Dokigrrlz had caught up the tank and were moving with them, the ones waving the chainsword jumping onto the turret of the tank.
They all cried out gibberish and Mukstet almost burst out laughing when the translation came through.
”DRIVE ME CLOSER! I WANT TO HIT THEM WITH MY SWORD!” flashed over the head of over one of the ones waving their chainswords on top of the tank.
Mukstet banked, coming around hard, checking the massive gun next to him and goggling at the fact it was a 40mm rapid fire heavy cannon with its own dedicated nano-forge. His missile loadout held weapons that made his skin crawl.
He concentrated on his firing run. He could see the pink and red smoke but see through it at the same time, the striker's sensors interwoven seamlessly with his own. The tanks were using the mangled wreckage of a ship nearly a half mile long as cover between the tanks of 3/17 and themselves.
The clankers tried to get lock and he rolled, spilling chaff, flares, and microprism smoke, leveling out and coming in hard.
The guns cut loose and Mukstet felt like he was in a paint mixer for a moment, his speed actually dropping slightly as the massive 40mm gun next to him ripped through eighty rounds in a single push on the rocker switch.
The rounds slammed into the battlescreens and psychic shielding, punched through the Clanker's armor, and detonated deep inside the hull. The tank slewing to the side and then exploding into chunks.
Why the hell haven't we been using this goddamn design? Mukstet asked himself as he nudged the rocker again and another Clanker tank died.
What is with their designs? Admiral Thennis asked, shivering slightly from the cold sweat that had covered her. She watched as one of the massive, twisted black ships let loose with a barrage that made her ship tremble even ten light seconds away.
She glanced down at the repeater next her crash couch, rubbing her forearms in hopes of banishing the tingling ache in her limbs.
BISMARCK> THE GUNS OF THE KROMIUM KRAUTMARINE CANNOT BE DENIED!
HOOD> Quit boasting and fire for effect at 332.32.
BISMARCK> SO IT SHALL BE! TASTE THE WRATH OF THE KROMIUM KRAUTLAND!