Chapter 369 (1/2)

The alert came across the datalinks on, first, the emergency broadcast channel. Then it was cancelled then broadcast across the General Command Frequency. That was cancelled and then the System Most High came over the Government Mandatory Announcement Channel on all of our datalinks.

I don't remember the exact words but he was panicking. I can remember, still, how he had foam around his jowls, how his feeding tendrils spasmed, how his eyes rolled in all six sockets. How his words were tumbling over one another and he babbled out over and over variations of 'we're all going to die.'

I was moving before my military police escorts, trotting away, toward the motor pool.

My tank was there. 15-281-31. My faithful tank.

I reached the motorpool when everyone else was still running in circles. I had stopped by the armory and found it empty, abandoned. I got my armor, which was to protect me from hull fragments spalled off by any hit that did not penetrate the armor but deformed the interior to spray shards of metal through the crew compartment. I had no personal weapons, a tanker I did not need them.

The motor pool was empty as I trotted through it.

I remember plas sheets blowing by in the winds. One stuck in my mind, a plas info-sheet informing everyone that possession of Terran media was considered subversive and would be punished harshly. It scraped across the plascrete, whispering.

It was then I heard it.

THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONE

The shockwave hit me hard, but my armor possessed psychic shielding and I managed to keep my feet, staggering.

My tank waited. 125 tons of hovering death.

I went through the checklist, walking around outside of it. I activated and deployed the weapons. The tank had no ammunition, the weapons were disabled, but still, I deployed them and ran through function checks. When that was done I climbed in and went through each position, each station, activating them and running the proper preventive maintenance checks and services.

Once I needed to go get transmission fluid for the right forward number one nacelle fan gearbox.

Twice more I heard it.

THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONE

The day was clear. Sunny, warm, a pleasant breeze.

I looked to the sky. Not for contemplation, but out of curiosity.

How long until the Precursors arrive?

Not long.

I returned to the motor pool master maintenance building, going through offices, until I found the keys to the munitions locker and the weapon locker.

I set about making my tank ready to fight.

When I had finished activating the weapons, arming them, loading the munitions bays, I sat beside the tank, waiting.

THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONE

I shuddered, a trickle of blood oozing from my nostril.

My Company Commander galloped by, tearing at his own mane with his hands, ripping at his own face, screeching as he kicked and lunged down the road.

My helmet clinked and I activated the communications channels.

What I heard filled me with relief.

”This is Armored Host Most High A'armo'o. All troops, to your tanks. I am with you.”

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

Vuxten checked the six Telkan that were crouched down on the gantry, their missile launchers bobbing slightly as they compensated for the movement of the massive mining machine. He double-checked their infra-red laser guidance systems against the points that Sergeant Casey had pointed out.

”Team One, fire,” Vuxten ordered.

Two missiles launched, driven by graviton accelerators, the solid fuel rocket motors kicking in less than five meters from the launcher. The missiles went hypersonice less than ten meters from the launch point, streaking out to exploded against the battlesteel axles of the grinders.

Both axles exploded. The grinder sections stopped moving, one partially falling in.

”Give me a second,” Glory said. She shifted her arm a few times. ”OK. It's coming loose.”

Vuxten looked up. The massive mining machine was still chasing the Confederate and Lanaktallan military forces. Its sheer bulk forced them to engage the other Precursor machines as they went, face t face, with no finesse or maneuvering.

As Vuxten watched a Lanaktallan tank took a hit the cupola jumping off the ring, green and orange flames billowing out from around the ring-seal, the hatches exploding off.

It didn't die alone. The two Lanaktallan tanks flanking it gutted its killer with precise plasma rounds.

”All right,” Glory said. She looked up at Vuxten. ”How's it going out there?”

”Not good,” Vuxten admitted. ”They're taking hits. A couple Terran tanks got knocked out a few minutes ago.”

”Get me loose and I'll gut this big bastard,” Glory said.

”Team Two, fire,” Vuxten ordered.

Three missiles this time. The driveshafts for the massive grinders blew apart and the grinders, these ones cone shaped, went still. Glory shifted again, managing to get one arm out. She flexed her fingers, her arm and hand scraped and gouged.

”Much better,” she said.

Vuxten ordered the other three teams, one at a time, to fire at the specific points Casey had pointed out. When it ended, Glory managed to get both arms free, bracing her hands against the massive housing cover. She pushed her way out until she was sitting on the edge of the housing, looking at her legs.

”Man, I'm all scratched up,” she complained. She looked up at Casey. ”So, champ, what's the plan? Gonna show a girl a good time?”

Casey laughed. ”Plan is, blow this big bastard up and run like hell,” the Terran said.

471 popped up an image of an explosion with a bunch of greenies flying away all blaming each other for blowing up the breakroom toaster.

”So what do you...” Vuxten started.

Below him, deep in the machine's hulk, circuits finally passed self-check and were powered up. Initial checks reported that the machine was engaged in xenospecies conflict.

The higher function thinking array lobes responded to power up with a single broadcast that blasted out around it.

YOU SHALL BE DEVOURED BY THE HIVE!