Chapter 335.5 (1/2)

Palgret was a Maktanan, with brown and tan and cream colored fur that swirled in patterns across his body. His ears were wide and at the side of his head, his gold eyes were square pupiled and wideset in addition to being fairly large. His nose was large and sensitive at the end of his short muzzle. His hands had gripping pads, his feet had walking pads, and he had blunt claws between his fingers and toes from his tree dwelling forebearers. He was two-thirds the height of a Lanaktallan, muscular from years of exercise, healthy from a steady balanced diet, and was toughened by years of training.

He was a Sword Hoof infantryman.

Which is why he was standing with his fellow infantrymen, in full armor, carrying his weapons and equipment, and drawn up in front of what had to be the largest lemur he'd ever seen.

It was in a uniform that blurred and shifted coloration and pattern constantly. Palgret had heard it referred to as 'adaptive camouflage' and after asking around had discovered that it was the duty uniform of the Terran military. It wore an equipment belt with a pistol on its hip. Palgret had to admit that the pistol looked exceedingly lethal. Heavy, blocky, almost unfinished looking. He had asked around and found out that it was a magnetic acceleration weapon with magnetic coils on the end of the barrel for various uses, from stabilization to putting a spin on it, to separating flechettes for maximum damage. A mask designed to protect against inhalants from nanites to fallout to chemical or biological weapons was on one hip.

All in all, Palgret had to admit that the Terran looked frighteningly efficient and lethal.

The Terran was inspecting the armor that Palgret and the other two hundred odd members of his infantry company wore. She held the plates by opposite sides in her two hands and flexed her wrists and arms.

Palgret had to admit, he didn't expect the plate to so much as shiver.

Instead she bent it almost into a U before releasing it. It sprang back with a bell-like tone and she lifted it up to look at it from the side.

”Pops right back. Good kinetic recovery,” she said. She scraped a nail against it. ”Superconductor layer doesn't abrade easily,” she nodded. ”Not bad armor. Lighter than I'd prefer, but we don't have time to completely rebuild everyone's equipment and train them.”

”How long do we have?” Palgret's commander, Tarnmak Numsret asked.

The Terran blinked twice. ”Fifty-one hours.”

Numsret nodded, swallowing. ”My men have fully mustered. I was informed that Terrans would be joining us.”

The Terran nodded again. ”Only six of us. A half-squad.”

Palgret wondered how much difference six Terrans would make.

”We'll be providing heavy assault and heavy weapons support for your company,” the Terran said. She scratched her leg through the adaptive camouflage. ”We'll be running with assault drones, so make sure your men's gear is hardened against radiation.”

Numsret flicked his ears in worry. ”Radiation?”

”We'll have four anti-armor drones, they pack a 90mm Hellbore cannon with a maximum output of 500 kilotons a second of firepower,” she said. ”Anti-armor penetrators, but we can go omnidirectional if things get too hot.”

”Uh, what other drones will you have?” Numsret asked the question Palgret was thinking.

”There's only a half squad, but we're running a full squad's worth the drones,” the Terran said. ”Four Hellbore anti-armor, four quad-system eight-barrel air defense systems, four six tube self-propelled artillery drones, six mission variable drone clouds, two logistics drones,” she tapped her black warsteel datalink. ”That's not counting what we're running right here.”

Palgret realized that apparently six Terrans handled enough firepower to stop dead a force much much larger than he had previous thought.

”And the six of us,” the Terran smiled. She slapped her legs. ”I'm not armored up, but Terrans aren't exactly easy to put down,” she looked around. ”Right now, I'm here to observe how your training carries over to how you fight.”

”How we fight? We fight well,” Numsret said.

”No, no, do you use Treana'ad Infantry Horde tactics, do you dig in like the Hhrundarak for extensive trench warfare, or are you more like humans and do a combination of digging in and rapid maneuvering?” the Terran asked.

”We dig in and allow the enemy to come to us, force them to charge our entrenched position,” Numsret said.

Several Maktanan grumbled in agreement.

”Damn. Well, it's too late to change your training now,” the Terran said. She shrugged. ”Do you at least train to take the enemy's position or assault enemy positions?”

”No. That is what artillery and bombing runs are for,” Numsret said. ”We are infantry, not assault.”

The Terran blinked several times. ”All right. You're single function entrenched infantry. Got it.”

Numsret nodded.

”How long does it take you to dig in?” The Terran asked.

Numsret slapped the automatic position emplacer on his hip. ”Less than sixty seconds,” he said proudly. ”A team of four, working together, creates a fighting position in one hundred and eighty seconds, can place their weapon thirty seconds later, and the fighting position is fully online within ninety seconds after that.”

She nodded. ”That's right. You use the popup popdown style of fighting positions,” she said.

Numsret nodded. ”Yes.”

Palgret stared at what was coming out of the building behind the Terran. A knee high insect, clad in the adaptive camouflage with a flank covering that looked to hold tools. It moved up beside her.

”Am Here,: it grated out from between its mandibles. ”I am here.”

The Terran looked down, then back at the company of Maktanan infantry. ”This is Technical Sergeant Second Grade 119, one of my squad weapon engineers. He and his team will be checking out your armor and weapons and equipment.”

She held up her hand at the muttering.

”We have less than three days, only two local days. He and his men check my own unit's gear as well,” she said.

”Check gear,” the Mantid chirped. ”Checky checky.”

To Palgret he didn't sound very smart and wondered if he was caste born to just do military equipment tasks.

”While we call him 119, his actual name is the equation describing the wear of magnetic force on the non-ferrous alloys that are part of the warsteel armor laminate,” the Terran said. ”He probably already knows more about your weapons than you do.”