Chapter 359 (1/2)
The huge machine gave a massive roar as it rotated to face the fleeing tanks of 14th Regiment, 3rd Brigade. Two tanks were brushed by the battlescreen the goliath brought up, one of them lurching forward pouring smoke as its own battlescreens collapsed and the thick battlesteel armor was vaporized from the warsteel hull.
The other exploded.
3rd Brigade, Thunderpunch, drove straight into the flanks of the massive mining borers that were turning to head toward the Great Herd, their heavy main guns opening fire even as Vertical Launch System tubes opened up and the tanks fired rockets back along their line of retreat.
The battlescreens of the leviathan didn't even flicker as the missiles detonated on the battlescreen.
Vuxten saw Casey standing up, shading his one eye, squinting as he looked at something in the leviathan's direction.
”471, what is that thing?” Vuxten asked, reaching down to pat the hilt of his cutting bar to reassure himself it was there.
--deep level excavator-- 471 answered. --mining gear not wargear--
”I think it's whatever it wants to be,” Vuxten said, wishing he could wipe his mouth. As it was sweat was running down the back of his neck from the long minutes of hustling ammunition to the tanks.
A'armo'o fired the last of the 'snowball' rounds, yelling 'SHOT OUT!' as he did so. His gunner mashed the button with one hoof and the autoloader whined as it pulled a plasma round out of the ammunition bay in the belly of the tank.
”All Great Herd Units, follow me. We will get behind that monstrocity and show it our strength,” A'armo'o commanded, making sure to sound more confident than he felt. ”Load war shot, full power.”
”But Most High, there could be civilians that could be,” one of his commanders protested.
A'armo'o noted that the self-same commander had just driven his tank over neo-sapient civilian protestors a mere sixty years prior while helping put down mass civil unrest on a planet in the Inner Systems.
The irony was not lost on A'armo'o.
”GET IN THERE AND FIGHT, DAMN YOU!” A'armo'o roared, doing his best to imitate the human generals.
”As you command” the commander said softly, switching off.
Eighth Most High Shu'urdu'u clenched his jaws on the two wads of cud he had jammed against his back teeth and ordered up the plasma rounds himself.
”I will fire the gun,” he told his gunner. ”As Most High it is my responsibility,” he said. ”Prepare to attack.”
His crew nodded, turning their attention to their own tasks as Shu'urdu'u kicked the cover off of the firing button and lowered the gunner's scope in front of his eyes.
The machine leapt into view and Shu'urdu'u swallowed thickly. The machine was massive, cables as thick as groundcars, girders as thick as houses, tracks wider than his own tank. It slowly ground forward, crushing anything into its way to thin gray powder.
”144th, Dismount,” Captain Starpunt ordered, dropping off the back of the tank and slowing to a jog. The massive nanoforges had buttoned up, plunged into the river, and used the thick liquid to do a rapid cooldown. They had managed to claw their way up the bank and were digging into the wreckage of the city's industrial section.
She watched the rest of 15th Sustainment drop off the tanks, running, then slowing to a walk, then stopping.
Except Sergeant First Class Casey, who was still standing on the back of one of the Lanaktallan tanks.
”Casey, get off there!” she snapped.
”Ma'am, I see something. Permission to investigate,” the man requested.
”What do you see, Casey?” Captain Starpunt knew Casey had longer in service than most equipment, including Space Force vessels, and knew the man's instincts were razor sharp.
”Not sure. Maybe I'm wrong, but I think I see something,” he said. He reached back on his loading frame and grabbed his weapon. ”Permission to check it out?”
Starpunt thought for a moment.
think too long you're wrong... floated up in her mind.
Her instructor at East Point Military Academy.
”Just don't get killed. That's an order,” she said.
”Roger, ma'am. Casey, out,” the Terran said. He jumped off the side of the tank as it turned to run along the length of the kilometer long machine, going down on one knee and shading his eye.
Vuxten saw the human's action and tabbed his commo. ”Ma'am, one of the humans is on something,” he said. ”Can't tell what though.”
”Which human?” his Company Commander asked.
”The one eyed one. The big one who always wears a loading frame,” Vuxten said. Vuxten realized he was suddenly drawing a blank on the big human's name despite having interacted with him repeatedly. He looked at the human and blinked and noticed that the human had suddenly stopped broadcasting his ID. ”Case Steel or something like that.”
”Sergeant First Class Casey,” the Captain said. ”Take Second Platoon, follow him. Be careful and don't get killed, that's an order.”
”Yes, ma'am,” Vuxten said. He switched channels, picking up Lieutenant Plenux. ”Lieutenant, get your men, follow me,” inspiration struck him. ”IFF off. Laser commo only.”
Vuxten jumped off the side of the tank, feeling his knee twinge as he landed, holding the stubber up with one hand, slowing down from the run to crouch behind a piece of rubble. The men of Second Platoon ran up, taking cover. Lieutenant Plenux, a fellow Telkan, and Sergeant First Class Addox, a Terran, knelt down near him.
”What are we doing, sir?” Plenux asked.
”Casey's into something,” Vuxten said. He pointed out the Terran, who was moving in the weird exaggerated motions of someone in heavy power armor.
”Is he wearing just a loading frame?” Plenux asked.
”Looks like it, sir,” Addox said, bringing up his armor's magnification. ”Although what the hell he's doing with a Pontiac I don't know. I didn't even know those were still in service.”
”Pontiac?” Plenux asked.
”Old style minigun,” Vuxten said. ”Saw them used during Second Telkan. Heavy firepower.”
”We're following him, aren't we?” Addox said, bringing his magnification back to normal. ”Looks like he's heading toward that big culvert.”
”We're on him,” Vuxten said. He looked at Plenux. ”Bring the men in by squad, keep your intervals, I don't want a lucky shot taking out an entire squad. Laser commo only.”
Plenux nodded, starting to sweat. The last thing he wanted to do was screw up in front of Vuxten, who was more or less a living legend among Telkan.
Vuxten looked over the chunk of ferrocrete they were hiding behind that had been the solid floor of a skyraker only a few days before.
”What are you doing?” he wondered, watching the human.
A'armo'o had risen up out of his tank, grabbing the firing handles of his quad-barrel. He was running it in short, sharp bursts, ignoring the falling ammo counter. Part of him wished he was like the Terrans and could just ignore ammo usage, confident in the knowledge that after a few minutes it would all be back.
But now was not the time to be stingy.
The plasma packets detonated on the battlescreen and his gunner followed up with a direct hit from the main gun.
The battlescreen didn't even flicker.
”It's gotta have some weaknesses!” A'armo'o snarled as his tank brushed a massive chunk of ferrocrete and showered sparks. ”If we don't figure it out, it's going to just gobble up the Terran tanks like a Shavashan and a bowl of shrimp.”
Dremsal overrode the munition type, ordered the nanoforge to wetprint up the round he wanted, locked out his gunner and lifted his foot, unconsciously holding his breath. Less than five seconds later the round was loaded up into the gun.
Almost...
The tank kept moving, running down the length of the borer, less than a half mile between the two vehicle's battlescreens. The tank ground the ferrocrete and durasteel rubble under its treads, but still rocked slightly like a small boat in the middle of a lake.
Dremsal put the gunner's sight in overlay over what he was seeing.
The borer opened a hatch and robots started dropping out, firing wildly at the tanks of HHC as they fired back, their rounds impacting to little use on the thick armor of the borer.
Now!
He stomped the firing lever, grinding his teeth, a habit he'd had since childhood.
The massive cannon roaring as it fired the heavy munition. The battlescreen on the Precursor borer had flickered, reformed, and left a gap between two endosteel girders. The shot whipped through the opening, crossed the two meters between the borer and the battlescreen, and flew through the open hatch that several mining robots had just exited from.
The round exploded inside a fabrication bay, the antimatter HE detonating. Contrary to pure lab math, the H3 antimatter round (the fastest the nanoforge could wetprint safely) didn't explode on a 1 to 1 basis, but it was still a hellish explosion as one hundred grams of antimatter went off when the round hit and the magnetic suspension bottle failed.
The borer was designed to handle heat and pressure from the outside.
Not the inside.
It managed to hold together for less than second, but it was long enough to channel the blast forward and to the rear of the borer.
A 1.25 megaton blast gutted the borer, the grinding gears in the front exploding outward, the tracks blowing off, and energy boiling out of every opening in the borer.
A'armo'o let off the trigger of his plasma gun, keeping his thumbs on the barrel switch, letting the barrels cool as it spun. He couldn't see any way to get through the thick battlescreens that were scouring the dirt and destroying anything that wasn't thick ferrocrete street.
He was snarling at the massive machine, glaring at it, willing it to expose a weakness to him so he could take its mechanical life.
Vuxten saw Casey duck into the culvert and hustled up, jumping down into the ferrocrete trench drain, splashing through the water. He heard his men follow, heard someone stumble and curse.
Casey had torn away an endosteel grate from the mouth of the pipe, tossing it to the side, and was moving into the ditch itself.
”Sergeant, what's the plan?” Vuxten asked, hurrying to catch up.