Chapter 363: (Memoirs) (2/2)

The Colonel nodded. ”This way to the armory, General.”

A Terran captain next to Ge'ermo'o touched his lower right elbow. When Ge'ermo'o looked at him, he noted how grave the Terran looked.

”If you Lanaktallan gentlemen will follow me, we should have time to fab and fit you with armor.”

Ge'ermo'o was proud of himself for how calm he knew he looked as he nodded.

----------------

Trucker dropped down into his tank, slamming the hatch shut over him.

He'd waited till almost the last second. The tank shuddered as the lead of the debris wave hit his tank. The wave was thick dust, formerly ferrocrete and asphalt, all ripped up by the massive Precursor combat machine going nose first into the suburbs beyond the city and scraping the bedrock for nearly eight miles before it had lost momentum and slammed down into the channel it had carved.

”Can't see shit, sir,” his driver said.

”Tell all units to hold position, give the air a minute to clear,” Trucker ordered. He heard his radioman passing the orders and looked at his sensor tech. ”How many?”

”I saw four entering atmosphere before that big monster hit,” he said. ”Maybe more. The sky's on fire.”

”331, how's it look in there?” Trucker asked.

--rough shape-- the Mantid Engineer Team Leader admitted. --try not to let them hit you--

”We're a tank. We're a little obvious,” Trucker chuckled. He tapped his software and tossed a meme at the Mantid team of his tank, with great big googly eyes, trying to hide behind a tree, with meters of hull and an eye on each side of the tree. The caption ”I R HIDYN!” at the bottom.

That got back giggling emojis.

”All Regimental Commanders, check in,” Trucker said. He scooped out his dip and slung it into the can. He repacked it while he waited for his commo tech to get in touch with the different regiments.

”Trucker wants a sit-rep,” Colonel Dremsal heard faintly over the roar of his quad-barrel.

”TELL HIM I'M BUSY!” Dremsal yelled back. As soon as they'd moved in between the two massive Precursors their air support had come out to play.

The sky above him was a whirling gnashing death snarl, with 19th Air Cavalry Regiment fighting six times their numbers with seemingly infinite reinforcements. So far they'd only lost three strikers, but each casualty counted.

”Told him you were still alive and we've still got tanks even if we're rolling coal,” his commo tech said. He put his hand to his ear. ”Most High A'armo'o wants to talk to you.”

”Put him through,” Dremsal said. He let go of the quad-barrel and ducked back into the tank, pulling the hatch shut. The last thing he wanted is some Precursor machine getting past the battlescreens, reaching down into the tank, and snatching his head off.

”Dremsal here, go ahead,” he said.

”We're coming up on your rear. We've got 15th Sustainment inside our ranks. We had to drop back from the river, large machines were making landfall,” A'armo'o said.

Dremsal closed his eyes, bringing up how his vehicles were arranged. He gave the orders and shot A'armo'o his plan.

”You keep 15th covered, we'll drop back to get refit,” Dremsal said.

”What, may I ask, is our target?” A'armo'o asked. He glanced back at the half dozen Telkan Marines on the back deck of his tank. A quick glance showed his second in command had several Terrans on the back and it looked like they were doing something important.

”Juggernaut. It looks like it almost broke up, but if they get the auto-factories running we'll be in a lot of trouble if we let it just sit there without busting up its plans,” Dremsal said. ”We'll knock out the supply lines, get close, and open fire on it.”

”What about the Great Gobbler back there?” A'armo'o asked.

”He can watch from behind us. He won't be able to catch up to us,” Dremsal said. ”We'll keep ahead of it close enough to keep its attention, keep it from diving, but we won't let it get close.”

”I understand. Your warplan is loaded, my men are moving up,” A'armo'o said.

The tanks of the Great Herd slowed for a moment as the Terran tanks widened the wedge they were in, giving room for A'armo'o to bring his brigade up tight to the formation and slot into the middle. Once the manuever was finished, the Lanaktallan tanks formed another layer of protection for the lightly armored and lightly shielded (for Terran vehicles) vehicles of 15th Sustainment.

A'armo'o looked through his laser designator ranger at the big vehicle behind him that his men were still 'teasing' with random shots. He frowned and dialed up the magnification.

Was that... people on top of it?

-------------------

Vuxten stared down at the grinders below him, kneeling down on the ten foot thick protective housing right above them. He stared right into a massive glowing eye that looked back.

”Howdy, sailor,” he heard a female's voice over the radio. ”Buy a girl a drink?”

Vuxten chuckled. ”We thought you were dead,” he said honestly.

”I'm stuck. I came up from under me, I got caught on the cables and conveyors, then sucked into the grinder,” Glory said. She wiggled her fingers. ”I'm OK, probably scuffed up real bad, but I'm definitely stuck.”

The gears tried to reverse, jammed, then tried to pull the massive skull and shoulder in.

”My feet and shins are outside the grinders, but they're hung up on my hips and shoulder,” Glory said.

”Gonna have some greenies check it out, see if we can help you out,” Vuxten said.

--hopefully no fall whirr blarg dead-- 471 said.

”Can you move your arms?” Plunex asked.

Glory shifted slightly and the grinders howled, showering sparks everywhere. ”Nope. My arms are at bad positions, I've got no leverage.”

”Lemme look,” Casey said. He grabbed onto the edge of the housing and swung down.

”Wait...” Plunex said.

Casey dropped down, landing agilely on Glory's face.

”Aw man, first date and you try to do me right in the face?” Glory laughed.

”Don't kinkshame me,” Casey said, moving slowly and carefully. Vuxten could see his feet had the bluish purple of active graviton generators around them.

”Really? Graviton? Wow,” Glory said. ”Do you have any idea what it feels like to have you walk on my face with grav-stickied boots?”

”Don't kinkshame me,” Casey said again, his voice slightly distant.

”Kinkshaming is my kink,” Glory laughed. The grinders whined, clattered, and bucked. ”Ow, it's starting to pinch.”

”Enough leverage and pressure and they'll bend the warsteel,” Casey knelt down, looking at the gears.

”What do you see, Sergeant?” Sergeant Addox asked.

”Drive shaft is exposed on two of them. Look about three to four meters of endosteel,” he said.

”What...” Plunex started.

”Shh,” Vuxten said, watching the Terran. ”Listen and learn.”

”Looks like she shattered one of the grinders and when it tried to bring up a new one it hung up on her shoulder armor,” Casey said.

To Vuxten it just looked like a whirring nightmare of massive toothed screws. He started tracing the lines, looking at them. A small window in the upper right of his vision showed 471 was zooming in on sections.

--stress points here here here here-- 471 said, tossing the red dots. --bearing housing covers here here here here--

”Casey, my greenie's ID'd a bunch of stress points and stuff,” Vuxten said.

”Pass it to me,” Casey said.

”What if it sucks you inside?” Vuxten asked Glory.

”My arm's at a bad angle. It might rip it off,” she answered. ”Beyond that, I'll probably be inside a massive area where ore and rock are pulverized and I'd like to avoid that.”

Vuxten remembered the First Telkan War. ”How's your coolant?”

”Good. All my lobes are intact,” she answered.

”All right. We can get her out,” Casey said. He jumped up and grabbed the lip of the top of the housing and pulled himself up with the hiss of loading frame hydraulics. Vuxten noticed his eyes weren't amber any longer. ”I'll mark the areas, in order. Those armor defeating missiles you Telkan's use should do the trick.”

”Sergeant Canton, I need ten men,” Plunex sent out. ”All with rocket launchers.”

”Roger that, sir,” the section sergeant radioed back.

”We're going to free your right arm first. Once we do that, I want you to pull it out, brace yourself, and we're going to blow the driveshaft on the one on your left shoulder, then the one pressing against your chest,” Casey said.

”With missiles?” Glory asked.

”Your warsteel hull could take a direct hit from them. They're forged up for Precursor armor,” Vuxten said.

”Units on top of Precursor mega-structure mining vessel, fire green star cluster flare if friendly,” came a voice across the command channel. It was staticy and full of pops and clicks.

”I read you,” Vuxten said. He ordered the round in his grenade launcher to reconfigure to the right munition, aimed it straight up, and chugged out three, slightly spread apart.

”We validate three green star clusters. Mark with single red,” the voice said. ”No voice commo, IU say again, we are not receiving you.”

Vuxten fired a single red flare into the sky. ”This is first platoon, HHC, First Telkan Marine Division,” he said.

”We read one single red flare. Signal with red white red star cluster flares. I say again, red, white, red star clusters, when in need of assistance,” the voice continued. ”One green flare if under operation.”

Vuxten fired another green.

”We read green. Will designate spotter to overwatch. Pop orange smoke or two green star cluster if in need of assistance at later time,” the voice said. ”Dremsal out.”

”Telkan out,” Vuxten said.

Dremsal looked back at the massive vehicle. He could see the Telkan Marines plainly, and they were involved with something on the massive vehicle's port side, but the huge scoop wheels blocked whatever it was they were looking at.

”Can we even hurt that thing?” He asked. ”Without killing them?”

His gunner shook his head. ”Negative, sir. That thing's shields could match a BOLO.”

Dremsal frowned.

Where the hell had it come from?