Chapter 398 (2/2)

”Please, stay,” I said, reaching out and grabbing his hand. I could see the shiny skin around my arm, where fur had not grown back, had replaced the surface burns on my arm.

Mal-Kar sat down.

The curtain parted and Great Grand Most High A'armo'o entered the tent. He was wearing his jeweled and ornate sash and flank covering, both festooned with awards, ribbons, recognition. His pistol on his belt was inlaid with precious metals and gems. His jewelry was shined and polished.

I felt my lip curl in disgust at the obvious finery he was prancing about in.

”You have seen the dark side, Gunner Ha'almo'or,” he said. He tapped his chest. ”They disgust you now, do they not?”

”They do,” I admitted, and hung my head, embarrassed that I'd felt such a thing, dared to judge someone so very much my superior.

Most High A'armo'o leaned forward and whispered to me conspiratorially. ”They disgust me too.”

I felt my tendrils curl in embarrassment.

”Do you know why I am here?” he asked me.

Mal-Kar rubbed my newly healed forearm with his hand.

”No, Great Grand Most High,” I answered, staring at the floor. ”To place me back under arrest and remand me to LawSec?”

There was silence for a long moment.

”I have fought across the continent for three days, Ha'almo'or,” he said solemnly. ”Do you know how many civilians I directly saved in those three days?”

I shook my head. ”No.”

”None.”

I looked up and Most High A'armo'o put his hand on my paper gown covered chest, holding my gaze with his own.

”I, and my men, fought as hard as we could,” he said. ”Would you like to hear what I told my men, all of the tankers of the Great Herd still surviving, upon the second day?”

I nodded, my mouth dry. I swallowed thickly and Mal-Kar held up the pitcher. I gratefully drank as Most High A'armo'o placed a datacube down on the medical tray and tapped the top, activating the built in holoprojector.

Most High A'armo'o's face appeared. It was covered in sweat, his hair was matted and wet, his eyes were red with exhaustion.

”I know you are tired, men,” he said. ”You may be feeling that we are throwing our lives away for nothing, but nothing could be further from the truth than that feeling of despair,” A'armo'o said.

I looked up and Great Grand Most High of Armor A'armo'o motioned to the cube, bringing my attention to it.

”If they get past us, get into the city at our back, then everything Gunner Ha'almo'or has done is for naught! The lemurs are coming with fire and wrath and I am confident they will join our fight against these terrible machines for, like us, they are the living! Every hour, every minute, we hold, is another child, another man, another woman, that Ha'almo'or can rescue and seal away in the shelters he has created and defended with nobody but mechanics and clerks armed with whatever castoffs he could scavenge!”

His volume rose even higher.

”For all of your careers you have done things, followed orders, that you wondered if they were honorable! Now you know why you are wrapped in battlesteel! THIS, this moment RIGHT HERE, is why you were born,” he bellowed out. ”Fight, and gouge one more minute from the Precursors cold metal claws for Gunner Ha'almo'or and his loyal troops! Give him the time to rescue one more colt, one more calf, one more filly! Buy him that time, and you will not die in vain! I will be by your side and together we will form a bulwark between the Precursors and those Gunner Ha'almo'or fights to save even if we must do so with our destroyed tanks and !”

The cube winked out and I found myself crying.

”That speech rallied my men, enabled us to push them back from the cities,” he said. ”I lost ten thousand tanks, each full of the finest Lanaktallan to ever trot across tarmac, but we pushed them back.”

He was silent for a moment, staring at me.

”I am proud to call you brother, Gunner Ha'almo'or,” he said softly. ”I must return to my tank. The battle still rages on, despite the addition of the Terran's might it is still in doubt.”

I nodded, still weeping. He moved to the door, then paused. ”Someday, I hope, you can look back at these dark days with pride.”

And he was gone.

I sat for a long moment after the doctor and Matron left. Eventually I wiped my eyes and looked at Mal-Kar. ”Help me out of the sling.”

He didn't question, didn't protest, just helped me untangle myself from the medical instruments and the sling. He let me lean on him for a moment as the anesthetic beam and nanites suddenly cut off and my leg began to ache.

I dressed slowly, putting on my vest, sash, and flank covering, then peeked out the flap of the fabric 'walls' that made up my little recovery area.

Just the wounded.

So many of them.

I trotted out, head held up high, acting as if I had no business within the recovery tent. When we exited I exhaled in relief.

My first breath of the outside air carried the bitter tang and metallic taste of the last several days.

Mal-Kar followed me as I moved through the tents that had gone up while I had been asleep, following me as we headed for where the vehicle were. Terrans ran every which way, sometimes calling out to one another, many of them carrying objects or dragging cables as they worked.

My tank sat on the tarmac, in a parking space, surrounded by other tanks.

I had gotten eight steps when a Fifth Most High Tank Commander confronted me.

”Where is your tank, trooper?” he asked me, his tendrils limp and exhausted. ”We return to battle soon, the Precursors are massing for another assault in hopes of pulling the Terrans away from the manufacturing machines.”

”There, Most High,” I said, pointing at my tank.

He looked it over with his side eyes, still keeping me in his vision. I could see my tank, knew he could see it as clearly as me.

”GREAT HERD EMERGENCY SERVICES” was spray painted on the side in blue paint. The armor was patched with beaded welds. The barrel was discolored from being fired so often. The hoverskirts were patched, the plasma guns replaced by Terran kinetic weapons.

”Identify yourself,” he ordered.

”Gunnery Assistant Fifteenth Class Ha'almo'or,” I said, drawing myself up and saluting.

He stared at me for a long time, something I didn't recognize passing through his eyes. He moved aside, making a motion with his hands for me to continue on toward my tank. I got five steps away when he called out my name. Not my rank, just my name. I stopped, turning to look at him.

”My mother was among those you have saved, Gunner Ha'almo'or,” he said slowly. ”I will never forget that you saved her despite the way the Great Herd dishonored you.”

”You, and her, are welcome, Most High,” I said.

Karelesh waved from where they were sitting on the cupola of the tank, chewing on a ration bar. I nodded, moving up and pressing the touch-plate to lower the back deck.

”Round up your crew, alert the grav lifter crews and the bus crews,” I said.

Mal-Kar nodded and jogged away.

”We going back out?” Lu'ucilu'u asked from her place at the EW console when I clattered in, my cast thumping on the deck.

”The Precursors are intending on attacking the city again,” I told her.

Karelesh dropped inside the tank, still chewing on his ration bar. His hands quickly went over the controls and I felt the tank start to vibrate as the fans spun up to speed.

I put my face to the sight and toggled the power. I was carrying XM-3821 plasma cannon rounds, the two letters letting me know I was carrying Terran ordnance. The status came back at 87% after I triggered a burst of air through the chamber to clear the debris.

After a few minutes Feelmeenta let me know the others were ready to go.

Eight other tanks would be joining us, as would two platoons of Terran Light Powered Infantry and a squad of Telkan Marine Infantry. Feelmeenta let me know that we had air support and artillery support, via the Terrans, should we need it.

It made me feel better as we moved back into the burning city. The thick smoke blocked normal vision, even created interference for the tank's sensors.

It didn't block out the wailing that could be heard even through the thick armor of the tank.

Undeterred, we drove into the city anyway, the Goodboi's and Simbas bounding along beside us.

There were more to save.

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