Chapter 420 (2/2)
She put her hand on the side of my face and locked eyes with me.
I suddenly realized how tired she looked.
”Ha'almo'or, there is no-one left in the city. You have gotten them all,” she told me. She took one of my hands and slowly led me to the medical tent. ”There is nothing left for you to do but allow yourself to undergo medical treatment. The fighting is almost over, so there is no need for you to return to your tank.”
”But, there might be survivors under the rubble, too deep for the Terran sensors or the sensors of my tank's drones to see,” I protested, following her.
The filly Matron and the warborgs followed me slowly.
She led me into a tent, carefully taking off my armor.
The stench of unwashed hide, scorched hair, and seared flesh as well as the unique smell of old quikheal gel filled my nostrils.
She was quiet as she helped me into the medical sling and turned on the beam.
”Goodnight, Ha'almo'or,” she told me.
I struggled against the anesthetic beam.
It pulled me down anyway.
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”Can he hear us?” a voice asked.
I was floating in warm water, my eyes closed, my limbs slightly curled. I could faintly hear a thudding heartbeat and the rushing of blood through veins as the water gently rocked.
”Perhaps. He is close to wakefulness,” the Matron said. ”He is a stubborn male so we are using deep level womb simulation to keep his hindbrain relaxed.”
”Do not let him leave,” the voice said. ”He needs to heal. It would be a terrible thing to lose him after all that he is done.”
”We won't lose him,” the filly Matron said.
”Have you ever seen this before?” the voice asked.
”A few times,” another voice said. ”Not in one of your people though. Old Iron Feathers is like that.”
”It's not uncommon,” a third voice said.
”Will he recover?” the Matron asked.
”No. They never do. He will never be the same,” the third voice said softly. ”He will always wonder if he could have done a little bit more.”
I shuddered and relaxed, sinking deeper into the warm water.
The voices receded.
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I woke in the treatment tent, jerking slightly and crying out. I was trying to lift a beam that had fallen and blocked a civil defense shelter door in a collapsed building, ignoring the flames around my armor, as Dalpat sprayed a fire extinguisher around me. I could hear the Terran firing his rifle topside, keeping the Precursor light combat robots back.
My eyes opened and it took me a moment to realize where I was.
Mal-Kar sat in a bed opposite of me, slowly eating some type of pudding. When he saw that I was looking at him he smiled and set the bowl down. I noticed he had breathing tubes up his nose and monitors attached to him.
”Welcome back, Most High,” he said.
”How are you, Mal-Kar?” I asked.
”Recovering quickly. They say I'll only be in here a day or two more to make sure I don't get fluid buildup in my lungs,” he said. ”I saw Feelmeenta, they gave her a cybernetic hand.”
I nodded.
Mal-Kar looked over and gave a slight wince. ”Oh boy, here comes someone mad at you.”
The Matron clopped into sight and stared down at me.
”So, are you here or over there, Most High?” she asked, her tendrils curled in amusement.
”I am here,” I told her.
”And where will you stay?” she asked me.
”Here,” I said.
She put her hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently. ”You did all you could do, Ha'almo'or. Do not let what you think should have been eclipse what actually was.”
I let me head hang. ”I just wanted to save a few more,” I admitted softly.
”As did I. It was not to be. The Precursors, they also get a say, and their voice was loud,” she said gently. She looked at me. ”Rest now. There will be time enough for recriminations later.”
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It was raining again, but the rain was clear, not longer a black sticky thing, as I limped out of the tent and looked around.
A Terran, possibly the largest I had ever seen, was standing next to a Hikken that was chewing on an empty ration tube. The Terran was talking to a Lanaktallan I recognized and as I trotted across the grass, heading toward my tank, I saw the Terran turn and spit some kind of brown juice.
I had almost made it to my tank when I heard the voice.
”Gunner Ha'almo'or,” the voice said.
I recognized it instantly.
Great Grand Most High of Armor A'armo'o.
”Come here, brave one,” my commander said.
I nervously trotted over to him, feeling the urge to flee.
”This the one?” the Terran asked, spitting on the ground.
”He is,” A'armo'o said.
The Terran turned and looked at me and I noticed he had three stars on his lapel. He looked me up and down for a long moment, judging me, weighing me, perhaps seeing more than I thought was there.
”Damn fine job, son. Damn fine,” he said. He spit on the ground again. ”Took balls.”
The Hikken nodded, taking the ration tube out of his mouth. ”I am honored to have met you.”
Great Grand Most High A'armo'o took my hands in his and stared into my eyes.
”There will be no reprisals against you, Ha'almo'or,” he said. He looked around. ”Things are changing, in ways you might not understand, but what you did here, nobody can ever take it from you.”
”I thank you,” I told him, unsure of why I was getting the attention.
”Don't bother with returning to your tank, Ha'almo'or,” Most High A'armo'o said. ”Emergency services has taken over, but it appears that you have rescued any and all who remained within the city.”
”There has to be more,” I said softly, staring to turn around to look at the burning city.
Most High A'armo'o touched my cheek, preventing me from turning.
”If there is, it is up to Emergency Services now,” he said softly. ”The Precursors have been forced from the system, destroyed here on the ground.”
I just nodded.
”Now comes the hard part, loyal one,” Most High A'armo'o said.
”What is that?” I asked.
He was silent for moment.
”Living with it,” the Terran said.
His words echoed in my soul.
”There is still a war to fight, Ha'almo'or, and I wish you as part of my Herd,” A'armo'o said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
”Of course, Most High,” I said.
”We're loading onto ships, joining the Terrans. There are multiple worlds under threat. Join us,” Most High A'armo'o said.
”I will follow you wherever you go,” I swore.
”Gather your faithful crew, Ha'almo'or,” Most High A'armo'o said. ”We will head for the Terran's recovery point at dawn.”
”My crew are neo-sapients,” I said and tensed, waiting for their rejection.
Most High A'armo'o gave an odd motion I had learned was a Terran shrug.
”If they are your crew, they are your crew,” he said.
”Welcome to the Atomic Hooves,” the big Terran said. He spit again and looked me in the eyes. ”See you onboard the ships.”
I looked at Most High A'armo'o. ”We are leaving the Great Herd?”
He nodded. ”I am. Others are joining me. Will you?”
I turned and looked at the city.
There were other worlds, other cities.
Others who will need me.
”I will, Most High.”
--Excerpt From: We Were the Lanaktallan of the Atomic Hooves, a Memoir.