Chapter 361: (Memoirs) (1/2)

I was born, possibly shocking enough, in the Appreciation of Generosity Habitation Complex on Hrrudra'antii-521, now named Shalluki System, on the 54th Level. I was my parent's fourth child, which meant their license and mandatory pairing was over. I was moved, by the time I was a year old, to the creche down on 64th Level. I was a mediocre student at best, with abysmal mathematics scores. I was uninterested in history, such as it was, but was able to focus on tasks well enough to slowly but surely ascend through the Unified School System. Upon my graduation, I took the tests, like any good Lanaktallan, and had a short list of less than twenty employment offers.

Being young, a merely 22, I had grown up seeing the Unity videos on the Tri-Vee. Visions of Lanaktallan all gazing upward at a future that was guarded by the Unified Military Forces. Handsome stallions in their sashes, vests, and flank coverings marching in unison down the street with their rifles. Armor covered soldiers guarding space ports and colonies.

Of course, the young me had no idea that those videos had been recorded tens of thousands of years ago. That the ideals I bought so whole-heartedly into were set down hundreds of thousands of years ago.

I signed up on the Level Five recruitment office. I was excited at the vast, dizzying array of jobs I was being offered by the Unified Military Recruitment System.

I can still remember trotting out of the Recruitment Center, a new sash proclaiming to everyone that I was a now a recruit, awaiting the next shuttle. I remember standing in the elevator, feeling proud of myself.

I would be a tank gunner. My reflexes, my eyesight acuity, my focus and concentrating offering me a job that had a wonderful signing bonus. Why, I even had a waiver for cost of training, lodging, food, and the pay of my trainers.

Two days before I was to board the vessel, a colt from Level 84 put an illegal needle pistol to the back of my head and had me transfer the balance of my account to his. Afterwards, he took my sash.

Still, two days later I found myself on a three month voyage to where I would receive my basic military training. I was broke, but wiser. My sash would not protect me, being part of the Unified Military Forces impressed nobody.

Little did I know, when I stepped onto the tarmac at the end of the flight, that I was on a collision course that would, less than three years later, have me shoulder to shoulder with enraged lemurs.

Eventually, beyond all reasonable predictions, I would find myself, wrapped in Terran warsteel and driven by Terran designed hover systems, wielding an atomic sledgehammer, in a place where even Death had died.

--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.

Vuxten watched as the battlescreen passed overhead. It was meters thick, ripping apart the vehicles, exploding traffic guides, shredding plasteel street guardrails. His whole mouth went tingly, sparks danced on his armor, and 471 flashed three unhappy faces in a row.

Then it was clear.

PFC Shutruk started to move forward but Second Lieutenant Plunex grabbed his arm, stopping him.

The second battlescreen moved by, making the air wavy and distorted, colors appearing in streaks from the meters thick protective field.

”You'd be dead, dumbass,” Plunex said.

Vuxten watched as Casey edged up, keeping about two meters back from the opening. He shaded his eye again and looked.

”It's big. Twenty meter high tracks, roadwheels and running gear are covered by armor. No platforms, I can see three access points for additional robotic ancillary mechanisms, one's open and dropping what looks like quadruped miner robots. They're only the size of a small groundcar,” the Terran said.

Only, Vuxten thought to himself, grinning inside his helmet. Back before First and Second Telkan, something that size would have terrified him.

Now he was holding an Imperium of Wrath stubber formerly wielded by a Persian Immortal, whatever that was, of the Martial Order of Xerxes. He had faced far far worse than a mining robot the size of a groundcar with less in his hands.

”Six access points up top,” the Terran said. He looked further up. ”Those cables are thick, but under a lot of tension, I can see stretching in some points. The pulleys look like battlesteel, and I can see some warping and wobbling. The axles are at least five meters thick, probably hardened battlesteel.”

”You know a lot,” Lieutenant Plunex said softly.

”You pick up a lot after a few years,” Casey said. He reached back and pulled the six barrel minigun around and started punching in codes into the small holokeyboard that popped up.

Vuxten managed not to snort.

”Plan, sir?” Plunex asked Vuxten, deferring to the only Telkan born First Lieutenant in the Telkan Marines so far.

”Not sure. Let Sergeant Casey and Sergeant Addox make an appraisal,” Vuxten said. He leaned over and put his helmet against the other Lieutenant's. ”These two NCO's have, together, over a thousand years of military experience. We have the time, we listen to them.”

”Oh,” Plunex answered. He noticed that Sergeant Casey had a nanoforge welded to the back of the minigun's frame and it was starting to steam.

”The Telkan Marine power armor can jump high enough to reach the top of that section there with a running start,” Addox said.

Vuxten saw that Addox was streaming video to him and opened it.

The vehicle was a monster. Multiple platforms, articulated at several points in the middle section, the multiple wheels with scoops big enough to snatch up a tank, the street, and a couple tons of dirt, the thick cables and girders.

Addox highlighted the top of the lowest section, which looked like a massive baseplate.

Vuxten tagged five locations for landing points and his armor's computer automatically showed him where everyone would need to jump and at what angle.

”We'll attract attention as soon as we break from this pipe,” Plunex said.

”We'll use masking smoke,” Addox said.

Casey gave a hmm. ”Three two mix. Masking smoke and prism chaff. That should do it.”

Addox nodded and Vuxten paid attention.

”Battlescreen cleaned the parking lot at least,” Addox added.

”There's gotta be debris clearing systems,” Casey said. He did a slow look. ”Man, this thing is freaking slow. The tanks can outrun them, but then it'll just home in on another underground shelter and rip everyone out of it.”

”Do you think that's what it was doing?” Plunex asked.

”Without a doubt,” Casey said quietly. ”That thing would do some damage even to a warsteel shelter. Physics is on its side.”

”We need to decide quick, he's halfway across,” Addox said. He turned to Vuxten. ”Sir?”

”We'll toss masking agents, move to the jump points, reach that first level, jump for this point on the second level, then we'll figure out what to do,” Vuxten said.

”Remember, it's not a vehicle, it's a semi-intelligent autonomous mining machine,” Casey said. He had let the minigun pull back around to his back.

”Are you sure you should come along? You're only wearing a loading frame,” Plunex said.

”Sir, I'll be all right. If I'm wrong, I'll be dead, and you can tell me 'I told you so' as Graves Registration scrapes up my shadow with a spoon,” Casey answered, grinning. He started pulling grenades from a canister rack on the side of his Pontiac and tossing them out.

Vuxten noted that his eyes were glowing amber, not by much, but still amber.

”Get ready,” Vuxten said, using his armor's systems to mark where everyone would stand, what path they would take, where they would jump, and where they would land.

Addox threw a couple of grenades out, the canisters hissing as they deployed prism laden mist.

Everyone shifted inside the pipe.

”Get steady,” Plunex said.

”GO! GO! GO!” Addox yelled, bursting out of the culvert at a run.

A'armo'o saw, through the distortion of the thick battlescreens little black figures running across the gap between the inside of the battlescreen and the hull of the massive vehicle. So far all the robots were shooting their mining lasers at the Great Herd tanks, to no effect.

He knew if they saw the little invaders, they'd swarm them.

”ALL TANKS! GO TO RAPID FIRE! POUND THE SHIELDS!” he ordered, yelling over the communications link.