Chapter 380 (2/2)
THERE IS ONLY ENOUGH FOR ONEroared out.
And for the first time, there was an answer.
HOLD THE LINE, BROTHERS! WE ARE COMING!
The Terrans.
The Terrans were coming.
--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.
Everyone in the command center was armed and armored. Even the Lanaktallan were wearing Confederate designed armor and packing Confederate designed weaponry. The stress level was high, but according to the female Terran on the loud-speakers, confidence was high.
Grand Most High Ge'ermo'o had found it strange at first that the Terrans would have someone just stating basic information over a loud speaker, but as time went on, he found that right about the time his anxiety began to rise, the female lemur spoke and it eased his anxiety.
”Third Armor is engaged with the enemy. Casualties are below expected predictions. Lanaktallan Armored Host is engaged with the enemy. Casualties are minimal and below predictions. Near planet orbitals are under Confederate control. Confidence is high,” she stated in steady tones.
The female lemur was right. He did feel more confident after she got done speaking.
Ge'ermo'o turned to look at the large treana'ad officer, who was clad in heavy armor and staring at the holotanks. General No'Drak, known as ”Smokey No” to his men, commander of the entire theater's planetary military resources.
General No'Drak watched on the satellite overwatch as the massive machine, labelled ”Great Gobbler” on his holotank, suddenly pulled in its battlescreens and dug into the ground, vanishing quickly.
”Get on that!” No'Drak shouted, pointing with one armored blade arm. ”I want to know how deep it goes, how fast it is moving, and where it is going. Seismic, Wild Ass Guess, or reading the smears on the inside of empty ice cream cartons, I don't care, but I want to know everything about it!”
Grand Most High Ge'ermo'o wondered why the machine was so important and trotted up to the Treana'ad officer.
”Why dedicate resources to something that is no longer a problem?” Ge'ermo'o asked.
”Beyond the fact that it might resurface again and return to being a problem, field reports have provided data that suggests that thing is a lot different than it looks at first,” General No'Drak said.
”What?”
No'Drak passed his hand through the holo, bringing up the data on the massive machine.
”YOU SHALL BE DEVOURED BY THE HIVE!” it shrieked.
No'Drak waved his bladearm again and the picture rippled. It took Ge'ermo'o a moment to realize what he was seeing.
The Precursor Automated War Machines that had landed on the planet actually broke off attacking Confederate and Great Herd targets to focus on the massive mining machine.
”It's been tentatively tagged as a Precursor machine, more than likely predating any of the metal attacking the system,” No'Drak said. ”That means it was here before all of you,” the big insect leaned forward. ”The question is: did they know it was here?”
Ge'ermo'o closed his eyes for a second, concentrating. The Terrans moved rapidly in everything and sometimes it took him a minute to catch up.
”Which means, what do they want?” Ge'ermo'o suddenly blurted out, opening his eyes.
No'Drak nodded, having given the Lanaktallan a moment to catch up.
”Sir!” one of the techs called out from the floor.
No'Drak brought the trooper up on the holotank in a small window. A female officer, in armor, her helmet folded back into her collar.
”Go ahead,” No'Drak said.
”We've got multiple signals coming in from inside the Precursor mining machine,” she said. ”First Platoon, HHC, 1st Telkan and one signal from 15th Combat Sustainment Battalion.”
”One signal? You're sure?” No'Drak asked.
”Pretty sure. It's one of those ID headers that you don't forget after you see it a couple of times,” the MI officer said. ”Think of the worst combination of men in that quadrant from the enemy's point of view.”
No'Drak had a sudden, sinking feeling. First Telkan Marine Division and 15th CSB?
”First Lieutenant Vuxten and Sergeant First Class Casey,” No'Drak said.
”Right in one, sir,” the MI officer said, giving a tight lipped smile. She glanced at her board. ”I've got two signal ID's for Casey. One's trying to link up with 108th Military Intelligence, trying to upload data.”
”Tell them to put it on a virtual machine,” No'Drak said. ”Make sure someone keeps an eye on the Telkan who blew up a mountain and that psychopath Casey.”
The MI officer nodded and cut the signal.
”Psychopath?” Ge'ermo'o asked. ”Is he a dangerous mental aberration?”
General Moffeta chuckled. ”He has no SUDS. Even red-dotted, you can pull the chip and do a direct transfer to a clone. Casey doesn't even have that.”
Ge'ermo'o frowned, remembering something...
...something about...
”He's the one who believes in organized superstition, correct?” Ge'ermo'o said, suddenly remembering the one-eyed Terran who was always in a powered loading frame.
General No'Drak nodded. ”That's the one.”
”That just seems careless with his own life, to refuse immortality. Why do you call him a psychopath?” Ge'ermo'o frowned.
Ge'ermo'o noted that the humans all looked away, shuffled their feet, or otherwise looked uncomfortable.
”It's old history, Most High Ge'ermo'o,” General Moffeta said carefully. ”Not something anyone wants to bring up. A little bit of dark Terran history.”
Ge'ermo'o felt a stirring of curiosity but set it aside.
He made a note on his datalink. If he survived, he was going to look up whatever it was.
If it was embarrassing to the Terrans, that meant it would be interesting to discover.
Terrans are such interesting lemurs. I hope they never get gentled, he thought to himself. I'm starting to really like them.
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Colonel Dremsal watched as one by one all of the units under his command and under the command of Great Most High A'armo'o all signalled ready.
He reached out and pressed a single button on his command console, activating the warplan.
His driver threw the tank into gear. The treads spewed crushed concrete behind it as the massive engines roared and the treads clattered.
The flames swirled around the battlescreens, pushed back by the steri-fields that were now standard since the Second Battle of Telkan, and he stared ahead of him, his hands on the handles of his tank commander's gun.
The tanks maneuvered inside the hellfire flames spewing out of the ruptured tanks and the damaged facilities of the chemical refinery and manufacturing center.
In a single line they exited the flames of the refinery, pushing aside the wreckage they did not crush beneath their treads. They crested the low hill that had been built to protect the city beyond, the city now crushed beneath the Precursor's bulk, and as one stopped.
Dremsal waited until each tank signaled they were in position. He lifted up the microphone on a cable, an archiac system still built into each tank as it was immune to jamming.
”All tanks, load main gun,” he stated.
”Brigade XO and Great Most High are requesting confirmation, sir,” his commo tech said.
”All tanks, load main gun,” he repeated.
He heard the massive main gun of his own tank slam shut, loading the round into the chamber.
”All units, prepare to fire according to warplan,” he ordered.
”Sir, Brigade XO and Great Most High are requesting confirmation that a fire order has been given,” his commo tech called out.
”Confirm. All units prepare to fire according to warplan,” he repeated.
He looked left and right, noting the tank main gun barrels were all shifting slightly, all aiming at different targets.
He took a deep breath.
”FIRE!”
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01001111 01010111 00100000 01001101 01011001 00100000 01000010 01000001 01001100 01001100 01010011 was one of the newest creations of the massive automated facilities that produced war machines of the AWM's. Larger than his predecessors, with more thinking arrays, denser molecular circuitry, thicker armor, a greater number of more powerful weapons, it considered itself superior to all of the previously built machines except for the largest of the Harvesters.
Which made its current predicament illogical.
It had taken multiple hits from kinetic kill weapons as it entered orbit. As it tried to land it had taken additional hits, until it had nearly broken up and crashed on an entire city.
It needed raw materials to repair itself, bring back its massive manufacturing facilities, and help scour the planet of the entities that now swarmed its surface.
It watched as more of those annoying, hard to destroy armored vehicles appeared, with the inferior hover tanks that had been easily swept aside before the annoying tracked ones had arrived.
They drove over the hill, stopping, and 01001111 01010111 00100000 01001101 01011001 00100000 01000010 01000001 01001100 01001100 01010011brought up additional battlescreen projectors.
It knew, with a 100% certainty, that nothing the tanks could do could effect it.
They weren't the stadium sized tanks with the output of a Goliath.
They were gnats.
They opened fire.
The result was visible from orbit.