Chapter 447 (1/2)
Vuxten considered himself experienced, as did most of the Telkan of the Telkan Marine Corps. He had fought against the Precursors, against the Dwellerspawn, had stood next to the Imperium of Rage and fought to the death beneath a mountain.
Standing in the blasted plain, nothing higher than knee height still standing, his boots surrounded by grey ash, his mouth tasting of bile and scorched metal, his mind still shuddered back from what he had seen.
What he had experienced.
What he had taken part in.
He knew he'd never be clean again.
NINE HOURS EARLIER
”WE'RE DROPPING IN FOR THE FIRST WAVE!” Casey's amplified voice roared through the troop bay as the Telkan soldiers of the First Telkan Marine Division ran for their dropships. The big human was still entirely encased in his brutalism-esque armor, pointing at the drop pods. The razor sharp tips of the fingers of the armor gleamed a warm neon pink as he pointed.
He was the only human present.
”LET'S GO, MEN!” Vuxten yelled, climbing onto the dropship. He moved to the front, grabbing the stabilization rails with both hands. He was wearing his old suit, the heavy, ornate, and fearsome armor from the Second Telkan War, on orders from the General. The General wanted a visible morale boost for First Telkan Marine Division and believed that Vuxten's Imperium modified suit would do just that.
Laglun-3 was below them, the home planet of peaceful furry mammalian people known as the Welkret. It had a single protocontinent on one side of the planet and several subcontinents and multiple island chains on the other, capped by poles of frozen water and warm seas.
The Terran Confederate Military Forces on the planet were being overwhelmed.
Vuxten had been briefed on the fact that the commander on the ground, one Lieutenant Colonel Smrivit, a female Rigellian, had ordered her troops into a holding action, a last stand, while the logistics units fabricated self-drilling deep shelters for the population.
A population that Confederate Intelligence estimated had already taken 43% casualties.
Vuxten watched as the troops of his battle section climbed into the dropship, the dropmaster, a reptillian Rigellian Saurian Compact troop, made sure everyone was secure and ready.
”Vux, you read me?” Casey's voice came across the command channel.
”Roger,” Vuxten said. His visor couldn't decide if Casey was a Warrant Officer Grade Six (A gold bar with two stars in the middle) or a Sergeant First Class.
”I'll be launching first. You'll be in the first wave, landing around my beacon. The Sisters of Wrath will be landing at the other drop points, to provide backup,” Casey said.
”First Armored Recon will be third wave, correct?” Vuxten asked.
”Yes. Followed by the Martial Order of Hateful Mars for the fourth wave,” Casey said. ”Blinking yellow light, see you groundside.”
Vuxten nodded, looking up. His own dropship was still showing solid yellow light even as the doors closed and locked.
”Vuxten,” Colonel Brathmurt, an uplifted chimpanzee from the Biological Artificial Sentience Systems broke in.
”Here, sir,” Vuxten said.
”I'm tying you into the sats. Casey's launched first, you'll be launching in one hundred twenty seconds after he lands,” Brathmurt said.
Vuxten frowned. ”He'll be on the ground for nearly eighteen minutes unsupported even with a powered reentry,” he said. ”The Sisters won't arrive till nearly thirty minutes after that.”
”His drop-pod uses a Thrint Stasis Field generator, he'll be fine,” the Colonel said. ”There's only one type of drop-pod for his armor, but Casey assured command that he's done this before.”
”Roger, sir,” Vuxten said. He still felt doubtful as the Colonel left the channel and his visor cleared to show him a view of the planet. A small square with a dot inside was labeled as ”RIDIRE ÆSIR CATHASAIGH - SANCTI ORDO SPIRITUS TYR - MJÖLNIR DROP” for a split second before it was replaced by ”SFC/CWO6 CASEY - 1ST TELKAN - ORBITAL INSERTION” and Vuxten blinked at the sudden text translation.
”471, did you see that?” he asked.
--yes yes-- 471 answered. --no database entry weird weird weird--
Vuxten blinked again as more data came up while the dropship's engines began to hum as power was applied to bring them to standby.
Casey's drop-pod should have only been moving at roughly 220 mph, but instead it was moving over double that and accelerating.
”471, how fast will he be going when he hits the surface if he keeps on accelerating?” Vuxten asked.
--3.8 km/s-- 471 said. --mach 9.2538 local casey dead--
Vuxten frowned, wondering why he would be going that fast. He wasn't sure even Casey's armor could survive that kind of impact.
Vuxten realized that it wasn't going to take ten or fifteen minutes for Casey to hit the ground.
He was hitting now.
The satellite zoomed in, showing the ground.
A blurry heaving mass appeared, armored vehicles and what looked to Vuxten like something familiar he couldn't put his finger on.
The dropship clamps disengaged right as Casey's pod made impact.
--digital omnimessiah-- 471 swore.
There was a white flash followed by an expanding shockwave. Vuxten could see it even as his own dropship entered under power.
”Well, that's one way to get to the ground, I guess,” someone said over the channel. They weren't identified.
The dropship nosed down and powered toward the surface, a twenty-minute ride.
Less than three minutes later a voice broke in.
”Lieutenant Vuxten,” the voice was a Kobold, ID'd as Captain Vantree, 108th Military Intelligence.
”Here, sir,” Vuxten said.
”There was heavy enemy presence on the ground. We're trying to get a clear view through the airborne debris right now,” he said. ”Sergeant Casey is reporting heavy enemy remaining and is engaged in combat.”
”What?” Vuxten asked. ”Isn't he dead?”
”Apparently not,” the Kobold sounded slightly amused. ”I won five hundred credits. He's on the ground and, and I quote, 'engaging enemy forces in overwhelming strength, reinforcements landing area is hot, end status report'.”
Vuxten shook his head.
”You'll be landing next to him. I'll warn you, the area is highly radioactive right now,” Captain Vantree said. ”Right now, your mission profile is exactly as it was at the briefing.”
Engage the enemy and force him to commit forces away from the four nearby cities, Vuxten heard the voice of the Treana'ad in his mind.
”Apparently every enemy we can still see has turned around from the city and is heading toward your drop zone, so expect heavy enemy contact upon landing,” Captain Vantree said.
”Roger that, sir,” Vuxten said.
”You'll need to do an air assault drop, the dropships will pull back and provide close air support after that,” the Captain's voice got serious. ”You have no medical evac, no logistical support. You'll be on nanoforge operations only, so watch your heat and slush.”
”Roger, sir,' Vuxten said.
”All right, I have other lieutenants to remind and calm down,” the Captain said.
”Roger, sir,” Vuxten repeated as the line went dead.
The dropship shuddered twice and tilted even steeper. Vuxten could hear the graviton engines working overtime and was startled when the afterburners kicked on and the whole thing started vibrating.
The time to landing blinked and updated from twenty minutes to two-hundred-sixty-eight seconds. As he watched it kept counting down.
Twice Vuxten heard the rattle of flares going off as the dropship tilted and slid to the side.
”THIRTY SECONDS! GET READY!” the Saurian Compact troop yelled.
”ON YOUR FEET!” Vuxten yelled, moving forward to the door.
You will be first out the door, last to leave, he heard in his mind, a memory of Marine Officer Training.
”FIFTEEN SECONDS!”
Vuxten grabbed the overhead handle as the door retracted.
His radiation alarms immediately started howling, telling him he was taking near lethal amounts. His visor started flashing ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC in rapid succession, the warnings stacking up across his vision until the VI shrunk them down and moved them to a small box on the left hand side of his visor.
There were a half dozen rapid flashes, white light cutting through the debris. The dropship shook, despite the graviton engines, bobbling like a toy boat in a storm.
”GO GO GO!”
Vuxten jumped out, hitting the ground. One foot back, sliding, down on one knee, one fist pressed against the ground, the other holding his weapon up. The spikes on the knees dug in, his knuckle spikes tore the ground.
He noted, out of the corner of his eye, that the warsteel bird of prey on his stubber was glowing a dull red already.
The dirt was thick in the air, like he was in the middle of a duststorm, as his platoon thudded to the ground around him. The ground rumbled as the shockwaves from the atomic weaponry pushed at him. 471 cranked up the graviton anchor to keep him in place as shocks from multiple detonations in the 450-600 kiloton range went off.
ATOMIC ATOMIC ATOMIC flashed on his visor again, shrinking down and moving to the box as they scrolled up.
A dozen flashes ripped through the dust.
”Sound off!” Vuxten called out, his radio full of static.
The ground shook and the shockwaves threatened to tear him from the ground and send him tumbling. His platoon reported in, only a strained knee. He couldn't get anything from orbit or from any other unit, but that had been taken into account during the briefing.
His armor reported rapid impacts moving from east to west, as if a PacificRim Class Jaegermech was bunnyhopping across the ground.
”471, did the Hammerhead Jaegers make planetfall before us?” Vuxten asked.
--negative--